Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Is this all really necessary?”

Loki glanced at Mobius, clad in his black and gold overcoat. Orange pigment was painted in small, elegant patterns on his face. He looked like every other person bustling around them, only slightly more attractive.

But, of course, that could just be Loki’s unique opinion. 

“It absolutely is,” Loki scoffed, wearing their own vibrant green cloak, thin blue lines mimicking that of their Jötunn form. That was Mobius’s idea, and Loki was always helpless to say no to him. 

“Would you rather we tromp around in Hunter gear, looking more like aggressive tourists ready to be kidnapped than any ordinary citizen?” 

Mobius scowled, but Loki saw he knew they had a point. 

The pair strolled through the seedy streets of Sakaar, trying to look like any other looter, scrapper, or trafficker the scummy planet was filled with. Every other place they looked, some vile, sordid transaction occurred. Some were hunky-looking scraps, others were engines or weapons. Some were people. It hurt to let this all happen, to know they could help these people with a snap of their fingers but be forced to let it happen naturally. They already ran the high risk of causing an incursion, or a branch, or whatever they were fighting so hard to maintain. They couldn’t afford another pruning or reset. Loki couldn’t bear to be the cause of another one.

So, Loki let Mobius do his thing; the man had a unique eye for cases like this anyway. He could pick a wheat stalk out of a pile of straw. It was a crime, in Loki’s opinion, for the TVA to file him away for paperwork. 

“There—look.” 

Mobius gestured nonchalantly at a hidden alleyway as if he were pointing out an interesting shop or one of the many ransom posters, reeling Loki back into reality. They picked their head up, scanning the alley they were beginning to approach. They couldn’t see what Mobius had pointed at until they were nearly at the alley, but it was unmistakably what they were here for. 

A hunter helmet was hung upside down from a flickering lamp post. The numbers and letters that identified it were covered with dark blood, long since dried. Loki tried not to make a face. 

“You able to get it down?” Mobius asked, still keeping his relaxed facade. Loki nodded.

The helmet was knocked from the post in a flash of green and it clattered to the ground. A few people looked over but quickly lost interest and kept on their way. They approached the helmet simultaneously, Loki peering down the alley to make sure no one was waiting to attack. 

“Nice work. See anyone?”

Loki shook their head. 

Mobius stooped to carefully pick up the helmet, using the sleeve of his meticulously conjured overcoat to clean off the blood. Loki took everything back, maybe Mobius could learn a thing or two about manners. 

“Y–54. This helmet is old; they sent the Y’s three missions ago.” He looked up at Loki, who had drawn their hood. Something was off, they could feel it—a shift in the air, or the pedestrians milling behind them. Mobius shuffled beside them, pulling out his TemPad and punching something into the keypad, apparently oblivious to the change.  

Maybe it was just the surprise of seeing the bloody helmet, or the feeling they always got amid a bustling crowd. But Loki always trusted their instincts, and right now their gut was telling them they were in danger. 

“Mobius, I think we should get out of here. I’ve a bad feeling about this,” Loki whispered, looking over their shoulder, up, down, across the street. Their eyes caught a hooded figure ducking into a shadow and a shifty-eyed Centaurian man idling around a firearm stall. None of them stood out from any other person they saw. None acted more suspicious than the other. 

However, suddenly from beside them, Loki heard the helmet drop with a clatter. They whipped their head around but Mobius had disappeared. Panic zinged through them, but Loki instinctually slid deeper into the shadows of the alley, their back to the wall, scanning the streets. They strained their ears, heart beating faster with every second they couldn’t find Mobius. He had just…disappeared. Like one of their spells, but this gave no indication of what had happened, or where he had gone. For all Loki knew, Mobius could have simply walked into the crowd or spotted their perpetrator and given chase while Loki was distracted. 

But Mobius wouldn’t do something like that. He wouldn’t run off without letting Loki know. He wouldn’t abandon them out here, in a dangerous city with no way back to the TVA. He just wouldn’t. 

Loki took a deep breath, pulling their hood further over their face. Someone—or some thing— had taken Mobius, exactly like they had taken the several other squads of Minutemen. Which is why, Loki reasoned, they finally decided to send in the god to take care of the disappearances. 

Loki quickly glanced down at the bloody helmet. They were a god. They could handle a few rogue miscreants. What were a couple of potential killers in the face of a god, who, Loki would like to add, spent their whole life in the shadow of Thor, mighty god of thunder? They would even go as far as to say they were more lethal when draped in shadows. 

Loki just tried not to think about how powerful these miscreants must be if they could challenge the TVA. 

Everything would be fine. 

Suddenly, Loki caught a sliver of movement from behind, at the edge of their vision. They whirled, swiftly conjuring two steel daggers in the palm of their hand and saw—

…Nothing. 

Loki blinked. Squinted their eyes. The alley was empty. 

“Made ya’ look, pretty boy,” a voice said from behind them before a crippling shock of electricity surged through their body. Loki let out a silent cry as they fell to their knees and dropped to their side, writhing in pain, their limbs twitching and convulsing involuntarily. Their jaw clamped shut and they might have bitten off the tip of their tongue, they weren’t sure. 

“You’ll bring in a nice handful of credits, I bet.” The person stood over them, and if Loki struggled to crane their neck, they could make out long braided hair and faded white streaks on their attacker’s face. 

Shit. This was bad. Really bad. Has this person taken Mobius? A million thoughts raced through Loki’s head, each one worse than the last. Shit. They were not dying on this backwater planet. And if they had anything to say about it, Mobius wouldn’t either. 

“Who…are…you?” Loki struggled to say, trying their damndest to move. But their attacker just pulled out a device and began to tap on the screen, periodically glancing down at them. 

“You won’t be around long enough for it to matter,” they said, and another violent shock surged through them, and as hard as Loki tried, they couldn’t force themself to stay conscious. 

Loki surged awake in a cold sweat. Their hand immediately went to the side of their neck and they felt a small metal disc implanted there. Loki tried scratching and trying to pry it off, but as soon as they did a weak electric pulse zapped them. That was enough of that, then, they thought.

Suddenly Loki had the good sense to look at their surroundings. It was difficult to move, but they managed to struggle into a sitting position. From there, Loki could see most of the room they were in. And…well, at first, they didn’t think they were still on Sakaar. They were in a pale yellow room decorated with vibrant, abstract furniture and even stranger art. Loki was sitting in a wide, circular bed that faced a grand window, but they had to crane their neck to see out of it. There appeared the second problem: they still didn’t have full mobility. 

And, possibly the most horrifying of all, they found that they were draped in loose, blue-and-gold cloth, some panels sheer, others thick and rich in quality. 

Okay, alright, just breathe. Loki took a deep breath, probably held it too long, and exhaled with a gasp. Any number of things could have happened while they were unconscious, but Loki tabled that meltdown for another time. 

Their heart pounded in their chest, their ears, basically everywhere. Norns, this was not good. They had no idea where Mobius was, or even if he was still alive. But they couldn’t let themself aboard that train of thought. Worst case scenario…Loki would die. That was fine; they had died before, and it was hardly a big problem. Except this time , they were stranded on a foreign planet with their only way back to the TVA currently missing in action. 

Everything was fine. 

They were still alive, so the mission wasn’t over yet. 

Loki made their body move, willing that god strength to carry them to one of the windows. It was like their limbs had been frozen and only now beginning to thaw. 

The view from the window was nothing Loki could have anticipated. It was a sprawling city, with mismatched skyscrapers and what seemed like thousands of buildings all made of scrap. Neon signs flickered everywhere the eye could see. Flying ships—not unlike the ones at the TVA, Loki noticed—flew above head, some looking like simple shipping vessels and others likely equipped to handle space travel. It was both beautiful and horrifying. 

“Neat, right?” A voice asked from right behind them. Loki gasped, whirling around, their lithe steel daggers already conjured into their hands. 

“Woah, woah! Cool it there, Jumpy, put the little spikes away.”

Before them, an older man stood relaxed, clad in loosely draped golden robes. His hair was gray with specks of silver, and a blue strip was painted on his lower lip. Loki refused the urge to touch their face to see if they still had their jotün-mimicking paint. 

“Who are you?” Loki asked, decidedly not putting their ‘little spikes’ away. Like Hel they would give up an advantage when the man was clearly unarmed. 

The man looked them over, eyes raking from Loki’s head to their toes. He quirked his eyebrow, a smug smile making the blue line twist. 

“My name’s En Dwi Gast, but you , my little gem, can call me Grandmaster.”

Loki blinked. Then barked out a laugh. 

“ ‘Grandmaster?’ You must be jesting. Who are you, really? And why have I been treated with such disrespect?”

Unfortunately, the man didn’t look half as amused as Loki. 

“Listen, Sparkles, there’s a reason for everything. I don’t recommend finding out why,” he said, moving closer. Loki raised their dagger at him, but he just moved the tip away with his finger, that smug smile still on his face. “As for why you’re here, your guess is as good as mine! All different kinds of people end up on Sakaar; mostly by accident, but a few arrive on purpose. Like you ,” he added, eyes flicking between Loki’s daggers and their face. They were in a dangerous position if this so-called Grandmaster knew that they had come here from the TVA. 

“What I would like to know is just how you ended up here in the first place. You didn’t fall from any of the portals, as far as any of my sensors can tell—and trust me , they can tell alright,” the Grandmaster said, playing with his voice. “And you didn’t use magic, teleportation, science, insane luck, or any of the other hundred ways someone could end up on my, my uh, wonderful planet. If you did, I’d know. Which is why, I suppose, you’re in this room and not, uh, not down there. ” He waved a hand at the windows, and Loki quickly glanced out. 

When they took a second look at the city, they saw a more ugly atmosphere. Their eyes first landed on a street brawl, with one person being brutally bludgeoned while everyone else either cheered or simply went on their way without a second glance. The next place they looked, a shop front was being stolen from, and the burglar wielded a scrap metal firearm. In the third spot, Loki didn’t even want to describe what they saw. They quickly averted their gaze and turned it back to the Grandmaster. Not much of a better view. 

“See what I mean?” He asked as if Loki would agree on the spot. “I was hoping you’d tell me about yourself, where you came from, who you are, what you like to do for fun. Basically everything. You see, Broody, you weren’t just saved from complete and total annihilation because I’m being nice. Hah, no. Nobody gets to live the high-rise life just for their good looks here, like I’m sure you’re used to. No, no; here on Sakaar, people earn their luxury. Mostly through the Tournament of Champions, yes, but a select few people with particular… uses get to stay here! As long as I deem them worthy of it, of course.”

Loki eyed Gast with extreme suspicion. They were not a stranger to favors in exchange for safety, but this did not feel safe to Loki. It felt like a con. 

“And what kind of uses do you believe I can serve?” They asked carefully. It was evident that if they played their cards right, Loki could probably get away with sweet-talking themself around this mess. Probably. 

The Grandmaster leaned back, crossing his arms and putting a thumb over his chin. He hummed, looking them up and down. 

“That’ll have to be up to you , Sunshine. Will you tell me how you got here—maybe how to fix that, uh, little copper box you fellas came here with—or will you find your way down to the Arena? Or… perhaps some other option?” 

The man tilted his head, his face flowing between so many microscopic expressions that Loki had thoroughly lost track of any true emotion. 

There was no timeline in which Loki believed they would ever choose to…well, choose the last option the Grandmaster suggested. They were dignified, refined. Sure, they had slept with people in the past to get what they wanted, but that was years ago when they were no more than a misguided juvenile. They were different now. Mobius had changed them for the better. 

Mobius. Norns, the Grandmaster would hold Mobius over their head as blackmail. And—

He wants the TemPad.

Norns. 

That couldn’t happen. Whatever messed up, freakish things the Grandmaster had swimming around in his head had to stay in there, lest they escape and wreak havoc across the timelines. 

(That might be a little bit of an over-exaggeration, Loki thought, but they’ve seen their fair share of time-threatening individuals with half the craze in this man’s eyes.)

However, as Loki stared at him, an idea began to form in their head. 

“That copper box…do you mean my TemPad?” They asked, forcing themself to ease their posture and put on a smile. “I could fix it for you, if you let me see my friend I came here with. His name is Mobius. He has silver hair, a mustache,” Loki added when all the Grandmaster did was raise an eyebrow. “We were looking for friends of ours who came here a little while ago that went missing. We have reason to believe that they were kidnapped to participate in this tournament of yours.”

At this, the Grandmaster’s face twisted, along with Loki’s gut. They tried to keep their face light. In truth, Loki had absolutely no idea whatsoever how to even begin with fixing something like a TemPad, but the Grandmaster didn’t need to know that. Once he got to Mobius, everything would sort itself out. 

“Hmm, oh, yes! The so-called ‘Hunters.’ Oh yeah, they were a real pain in my behind, let me tell ya’.”

“Well, I believe that I can help you fix that problem,” Loki began, stepping back and to the side, pretending to admire the scenery outside the window. The Grandmaster made an intrigued noise, so Loki continued. “We have been sending the Hunters to catch a dangerous criminal that we believe has infiltrated your city. There was reason to believe that this criminal was the one making all our Hunters go missing, but it appears that it was you who’s been taking them. Am I wrong?” 

Loki knew they were toying with a dangerous line here—they were well aware of the risks—but this looked like the fastest and most efficient way to get what they wanted. Mobius, wherever he was, couldn’t wait for them forever. 

The Grandmaster smiled but shook his head. “No, you’re right. But you gotta understand that I found these Hunters roaming around with dangerous weapons. In my city! Any benevolent ruler would know you can’t have any of those.”

Right. Sure. Loki felt a little punch with that one knowing they were considered a dangerous weapon back on Asgard. But even if they weren’t on Asgard anymore, Loki still considered themself far more than just dangerous. Lethal, perhaps. Malignant, even. 

“Then you’d understand my concern, Grandmaster,” Loki continued. “It’s imperative that my partner and I find this criminal and bring them to justice. On our own timeli—our own planet. Yes. Wouldn’t you like them off your hands?”

The Grandmaster hummed, bringing his index and thumb up to his jaw, seeming to ponder on Loki’s proposal. 

“Hmm. No.”

Loki blinked. 

No?

They let out a startled laugh. What did he mean, no? Why wouldn’t he want the Hunters out of his city? Sure, Loki didn’t like them very much either, but they were an essential part of the TVA. Not Sakaar. Wherever the Hel they were. Mobius was weirdly purposeful this time in not allowing Loki to know exactly where they were going. Which was awfully weird; they thought Mobius trusted them. 

“You—why not? I thought you said that they were causing you distress?” 

The Grandmaster gave a little chuckle and waved his hand at Loki like they were a petulant child. “Why would I give you back your Hunters when they make such good opponents for my Champion?”

Loki did a double-take. Such good what? 

“I beg your dearest pardon, Grandmaster, but you can’t mean they participate in these…tournaments? Surely you understand they’re not meant for that!”

Norns, if Mobius was mistaken for a Hunter because of that helmet—

No, Loki wouldn’t go down that thought path. Mobius would be fine when they found him. He’d be happy to see them and they’d sweep him up in a tight embrace and pepper his sturdy face with kisses. 

“Of course that’s what I’m doing with them! What, you think I’d give them all the princess treatment? No, Sparkles, that’s only for you because it’s obvious you’ve come from some kind of royalty. And, yeah, I guess also because I want you to fix that boxy thing. What’d you call it? Your PenPal? Pad Time? Can’t remember, but I know it’s powerful, which means I’ve just gotta have it.”

Alright, that should have been expected, Loki thought. Obviously, this Tournament of Champions was the Grandmaster’s personal favorite pastime—if pastimes were for psychopath tyrants. 

Again, Loki wasn’t much liking how similar the Grandmaster was to their old self. 

“I’d like to see Mobius now. I know you must have him somewhere in here.”

Loki was admittedly quite done with the whole roundabout way they were trying to coerce the Grandmaster. It clearly wasn’t working. They would have to go at it with another approach, which was beginning to look like they’d have to force their way out of here. Preferably with Mobius in tow.

The Grandmaster hummed. Again. Loki was losing patience, and fast. “What makes you think that he’s not already dead? I could have sent him to the Tournament hours ago.”

“I won’t fix the TemPad without assurance that Mobius is still alive. Otherwise, you can forget about harnessing the untold power of the gods,” Loki said, letting a bit of threat creep into their voice. They allowed their magic to seep out, a green aura humming around the outline of their body, hopefully making them seem more menacing. 

And maybe Loki wasn’t talking about the TemPad. Maybe, if all else failed, they would sacrifice something more precious than their way home. 

“Hmmm…you’ve gotta deal, Sparkles.”
The Grandmaster stretched out his hand for Loki to shake, but Loki just stood there, a bit baffled. They didn’t actually think that would convince the guy. 

“Good.” Loki said and shook his hand. They felt a slight zap, but nothing like the wrath of Thor that was whatever their kidnapper stuck on them.

“Now, take me to Mobius.”

Chapter Text

Damn, his head hurt badly. 

He must’ve hit his head or something on that last mission. Thankfully it was over and he was back in the TVA. 

Mobius reached out for Loki, but he didn’t feel them in their bed. He grumbled. Something dripped on his forehead. Mobius wiped it off. Another drip landed on him. Really? He thought he told Miss Minutes to send someone to fix the leak in the ceiling ages ago. 

Cracking his eyes open, Mobius struggled to push himself into a sitting position. Jeez, his body ached, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t Loki’s fault this time. Something was different, off. Mobius rubbed his eyes.

And yeah, damn, something was definitely wrong. He wasn’t at the TVA at all. He hadn’t completed his mission on Sakaar, because, well, he was still there. 

Right. They were ambushed. 

How long was I out?

Mobius’s heart began to beat significantly faster, but he forced himself to stay calm. Focus on what he could do. Right. Yeah. Mobius looked around and he saw that he was in a round room. A filthy round room, actually. It was disgusting, and smelled even worse. There were stains of all kinds on the curved wall— walls? Mobius couldn’t tell with his throbbing headache—and the fluorescent lights embedded into the ceiling only harshly illuminated the grime. 

Yep. Definitely still on Sakaar. 

Something moved to his left, and Mobius jumped out of his skin with a choked gasp.  

“Woah, mate, calm down there. You don’t need’a be afraid of us,” a lilting voice chimed, and Mobius whipped his head around and sighed. Korg. It was just Korg. Mobius remembered him from some of Loki’s files.

“My name’s Korg! What’s yours, little guy?” 

Mobius gave him an exasperated look that seemed to fly right over the pile of rock’s head. 

“I’m Mobius. How did I end up here? Did you see Loki?” 

It was Korg’s turn to give him a weird look, but he politely shook his head. “Sorry lil’ guy, I haven’t met anyone named Loki. And trust me, I know everyone who makes their way through here. Well, since I’ve been here, and that’s only been, like, about an hour.”

Mobius had seen Loki’s file countless times, and Korg never showed up for more than a few minutes, but even that was more than enough to handle for a lifetime plus some. God give him strength. 

“Who brought me here, Korg?” Mobius asked, rubbing his temples to try and ward off his raging headache. Man, he could really go for a cup of coffee right now. 

“Well, Topaz brings most of the contestants down here ‘till it’s our turn to fight. I saw one real tough lookin’ fella go and he neeeeever came back.” The walking, talking heap of rocks said, probably trying to spook Mobius but he couldn’t fathom why. 

“Right, okay, Topaz. That makes sense. The Grandmaster’s fist.” Mobius struggled to his feet, clutching his head as the room began to spin. God, he felt nauseous. 

“No, Topaz is a big ol’ woman, not a fist,” Korg countered, shaking his head. Someone hold him back, ‘cause Mobius was this close to skipping the line and fighting Korg himself. 

“I know that, Korg. Jeez, I just gotta get outta here and find Loki. Has anyone said or seen anything about a tall, dark-haired person wearing green? Striking profile, piercing green eyes? Anything?”

At that, Korg actually perked up and gave Mobius a little stab of hope. “Well, now that you say, I did see a fancy-looking dude walking around with the Grandmaster when I went out for my first round. It’s hard to believe I made it outta there in one piece, because I didn’t, there’s probably still a hunk or two missing from my shoulders…”

Mobius tuned Korg out, focusing on all the times he studied Loki’s stay on Sakaar in the Time Theaters. He’s always been trained to solely inspect the Loki’s, but obviously they were reactive creatures, changing themselves to survive in the environments they were thrust into. The people and things around Loki’s had a great influence on how they ticked, especially during their times on Sakaar. So, it made sense to Mobius that he would analyze all influences, environment and character alike. 

And now, according to Korg, Loki was currently mingling with one of the worst influences they could have encountered. 

Shit, man. Mobius really wanted to try his best to keep Loki away from that scourge. Only bad things ever happen to Loki’s who encounter a Grandmaster. 

“Focus, Korg! Where were they going? What does it look like out there? I really need to see Loki, so help me out here!” 

Korg turned back to Mobius from his one-sided dialogue. “Oh, right! Well, there were a lot of hallways, and doors, and strangely no windows, but there was a blue line on the floor that they seemed to be following, if that means anything to you, because it didn’t mean anything to me when Topaz brought me down here…”

Bingo . Mobius was extremely tempted to smack himself on the forehead for the obvious lapse in memory. Of course the Grandmaster brought Loki to his personal booth to show them the arena, and by circumstance, a competition. Every file was different; every universe’s Loki saw a different battle, had a different experience, a different escape. 

All that to say, Mobius had no idea what to expect this time. But it certainly wasn’t a burly guard appearing out of nowhere to grab him by the shoulders and haul him out of the cell. And it certainly wasn’t a cudgel shoved into his hands and a helmet slapped on his head despite all his protests. 

No, no, no. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Mobius wasn’t even supposed to be here. He couldn’t interfere like this. It could have catastrophic consequences, didn’t they realize that? The timeline would branch and even more Hunters would arrive to prune it and kill all these people, along with him and Loki. 

But no, no they don’t realize. How could they? Loki was fine, they were safe; they were supposed to be here—albeit not for a little while considering Korg said he was only there for an hour—but Mobius was yet again a man out of time. 

And he didn’t think he could Steve Rogers his way out of this one. 

Mobius was thrown into a small dugout-style armory, iron bars just short enough for him to see out of. There were specks of blood scattered on the fine sand of the arena’s floor. It reeked, but the overpowering cheer of the crowd drowned out nearly every sense Mobius had. Aside from the blinding lights and pounding noise from the arena, he could just make out two beastly figures duking it out on the far side of the floor. One giant red creature clad in spotted fur swung a nasty-looking weapon down on the smaller but equally foul-looking Centaurian. 

The poor guy , Mobius thought. A flash of blue was flung across the arena and straight into the bars Mobius was peering out from. He flinched back, but there was no reason to be alarmed. The guy was clearly dead. 

Two small robots appeared to cart the fresh corpse off the sand while the crowd erupted in applause for the big red monster-man. 

“Two minutes!” A shrill voice shouted from somewhere back on the inside. Mobius forced himself to snap out of it and get some armor for himself. Like hell he would go out there not armed to the teeth. 

Like hell you’ll make it out of there, a little voice whispered in his head. Mobius shoved it down and picked up an alarmingly familiar chestplate. W-02 . This was recent, then. They’d sent only a handful of W’s, partially knowing that ever since the X, Y and Z groups failed to return, it was best to cut their losses. Mobius and Loki were the last shot, and it was a desperate one, at that. Mobius himself had made the order that under no circumstance would the TVA continue the extraction mission after they were sent in. Jeez, was that the call of the century right there. And without his TemPad, he couldn’t even send a damn signal for someone to come pick them up. 

Mobius shoved down the wave of nausea as he tugged on the breastplate, combed back his shaggy hair into his helmet, strapped on some shabby-looking shin guards and swapped his clunky cudgel with a thinner half-staff luckily similar to a pruning stick. 

The same guard who had forcefully taken him out of the holding cell appeared behind him.

“You’re up, chum. Give the people a good show, and maybe we’ll consider not feeding your body to the Abilisks.” He grumbled, giving Mobius a not-so-gentle slap on the back. He stumbled forward into a wide lift, but before he could turn around and try to reason with the guard, the gate had closed and the man pulled a lever to send Mobius upward. 

Y’know, Mobius thought, for a heavily tech-dependent society, this whole arena thing was really out of date. 

None of that mattered though as Mobius slowly ascended, the rumble of the crowd growing steadily louder as they awaited their new opponent. 

It seriously didn’t feel real to Mobius. Was this all just some elaborate illusion created by Loki? Or maybe he was just still dreaming, and he’d wake up next to them in bed with the smell of freshly ground coffee wafting through the air. 

No, he knew Loki would not be so cruel. But he also knew that there was no coffee where he was going. 

Either way, he wouldn’t last long against his hulky opponent.

As Mobius stepped out into the sand, hearing the gate close shut behind him along with any hope of survival, he sent up a hopeless prayer to any peering god who would listen. 

Man, it was a shame they didn’t provide last meals, because Mobius found himself really craving one last slice of key lime pie.

Chapter Text

Loki knew they were in a foreign environment. A foreign planet, in a foreign timeline. Well, maybe not that last one; Loki was still accustomizing themself to the whole timeline/universe distinction. 

But they were certain that one thing was constant in every universe ( or timeline ) and that was the structure of palaces. They had grown up in one, for Norns’ sake. And no matter how much the Grandmaster wanted to convince Loki that this was his palace, his kingdom, Loki was unswayed. 

Palaces had decorum, elegance, a certain regalness that radiated throughout the entire structure. 

This was no palace. The ugly, asymmetrical striping on the walls, the mysterious stains and scuffs on all surfaces, the rowdy crowds of jubilant, near-nude drunkards and horrifically untasteful, downright criminal decorations were more than enough to know that this was a hoarder’s nest and not a palace. 

But Loki had a job to do and a Mobius to see, so they resigned to suck it up for now.

After following the Grandmaster around what had to be at least a thousand corners and down even more hallways, they finally reached a more clean area of the so-called palace. A hum began in Loki’s ears, and they couldn’t discern whether it was coming from them or from somewhere else. But it was getting louder and louder as they approached more people. Loki put themself on guard, subtly palming the hidden dagger they stashed in the thicker fabric of their outfit. 

Norns knew what kind of party was happening here.

“Welcome to my personal lounge, Sparkles,” the Grandmaster cooed, sweeping his arm in a grand gesture. The room was surprisingly nice, with rich fabrics draped along the walls and floors and furniture, which was equally as elegant. Plush cushions and upholstery were scattered around, along with scantily dressed people who roamed around the room with trays of drinks and finger food. Loki’s stomach rumbled, but he made a quick decision to not consume anything they would offer them. 

But the main attraction of the room—other than the small groups of obscure elites—were the windows that overlooked a colossal arena. 

So that was where the hum—now a near-deafening roar—was coming from. Huh. 

“Is Mobius here?” They questioned the man, who had slumped into a spot on the long, extravagant couch in front of the window. He draped an arm over and lazily beckoned Loki with his hand. They begrudgingly obeyed, slinking over to the couch and sitting down on the very edge. 

“You’ll get to see him soon, pal. What’s your name, by the way? I don’t think you ever properly introduced yourself.”

For good reason, Loki wanted to hiss. But they composed their face into a guarded smile. “Loki. Loki Laufeyson.”

The Grandmaster only perked an eyebrow. Come on, Loki deserved more than that. 

“Well, Loki Laufeyson, while you’re here I’d suggest you make yourself comfortable. The Tournament’s about to start, and I wouldn’t want you to miss out on our deal.”

That perked their attention. And worry. Loki expected Mobius to be brought into the room with them, or at least Loki would be brought to him.

Something was just wrong . 

The crowd picked up again with their cheering and the surrounding lights dimmed for the spotlights directly overhead. The booth looked over the entire arena, and Loki could count nearly ten thousand onlookers, all crazed and prepared for a fight. When Loki glanced over at the Grandmaster, he looked most excited of them all. 

“Grandmaster, we made a deal. Where is Mobius?”

The crowd erupted, dragging everyone’s attention into the pit. But Loki didn’t miss the sly grin the Grandmaster slid at them, and when they turned their head back to the arena, Loki’s heart dropped. 

A giant red beast stalked out of its cell right below the booth, a spiked, bloody cudgel swinging in its grasp. 

Then, from all the way across the sand, a man in Hunter gear stepped out into the spotlights, shielding his eyes. Loki didn’t need to see anything to know it was him. 

Mobius. 

Oh, dread and rage and sparking magic boiled in Loki’s core. 

“You said that he would be safe!” Loki seethed, crossing the distance between them and the smirking Grandmaster who lounged comfortably on the couch. Oh, Loki wanted to wring the scrawny man’s neck. 

Their magic sparked at their fingertips as they clenched their fists, sending small jolts back into their skin. Loki dimly registered a few guards shifting their positions, but frankly, they didn’t much care. 

“All I said was that you’d get a chance to see him. And-–oh—look at that!” —the Grandmaster gestured to the arena with his hands— “There he is. That was our deal, Sparkles.” His face was twisted in a knowing sneer, that ugly blue stripe on his lip crooked. 

“You can’t do that,” Loki pressed, the beginnings of panic creeping into their voice. 

“‘Course I can,” The Grandmaster quipped, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m the Grand master, Lo-Lo, I can do whatever I want. Now sit down and, uh, well, enjoy the show.”  

Loki was forcefully shoved down onto the couch by two of the guards. They protested, but the Grandmaster gave a little tut-tut that shut them up immediately. He draped an arm across the back of the couch, his hand directly behind Loki’s head. A threat if they’ve ever seen one. 

“You can’t leave him out there, he’s human!” They hissed, fists still clenched. 

“Yeah, well, there’s been much weaker species that fought in the Tournament of Champions.”

Ignoring that horrific thought, Loki pressed on. They couldn’t just let Mobius be murdered like this. He’s probably never even been in a fight before, let alone against something as gigantic as this . 

“You must not understand, Grandmaster, he’ll be eviscerated. There will be no fight at all, only a brutal murder. Do you want your subjects to witness that? What kind of reaction do you think they’ll have when they realize all they’re going to see is the murder of an innocent man?” 

Good gods, they really did sound like their old self. No time to dwell on that, though. 

The Grandmaster was quiet for a few moments, looking contemplative. “Well, yes, that does sound like something they’d wanna see. And that's what I’m gonna, going to, well, provide.” He gestured to the window, to the thousands of packed seats going wild. Bloodthirsty. There wasn’t anything to do on this backwater planet other than watch people suffer. 

Loki’s stomach curled, and a thought sparked in their head. 

“Your subjects will be disappointed. Do you think they will be pleased when they realize their hard-earned wages have been spent on nothing? What do you think they’ll think of you when they see just how desperate you are for entertainment that you’ll allow a meek human to stand against a Xantarean?”

That made the Grandmaster frown. And possibly form a rational thought, Loki hoped. 

He hummed. “They wouldn’t be too happy.” 

The roar of the crowd reached a climax, and Loki turned their head from the Grandmaster’s pondering face to where Mobius stood defensively on the other side of the arena. It looked like he had Hunter gear on and a pruning stick in hand. How did he manage to get one of those?

“But it’s too late now. There’s nothing much I can do to stop the Tournament.”

“And you call yourself the Grand master? 

The roar of the crowd reached its climax, and Loki turned their head from the Grandmaster’s pondering face to where Mobius stood defensively on the other side of the arena. It looked like he had Hunter gear on and a short staff in hand.

Loki had to do something. Mobius wasn’t fit to fight; he was just a simple, pie-loving analyst, not a gladiator. 

“This isn’t fair,” they said, grasping at straws. “You can’t do this.”

“I don’t play fair, Sparkles. I’m the Grandmaster,” the man replied, splaying his palms like it was all the reason he needed. “Your human won’t beat my Champion, simple as that. At least you got to see him, though, yeah? One last glimpse of your lover boy before he’s ripped to shreds?”

His audacious laugh made Loki want to kill him. The way he simply referred to Mobius like he was nothing but a pet made Loki want to rip him apart with their teeth. 

“Just settle in and watch it happen. I wouldn’t waste your breath trying to persuade me, or waste your energy trying to escape; my guards are the best in the galaxy.”

Loki did as they were told. They slumped back onto the couch, a desperate look on their face. They were useless up there, reduced to nothing but a spectator. 

They had no weapons in their arsenal, and without the access to their magic—

Loki blinked, then resisted the powerful urge to smack themself. 

Norns, were they dense sometimes. 

Being in the TVA had apparently warped the way Loki thought about their magic more than they realized. The only times they were allowed to use it was when they were called into the field, and that hardly ever happened. Even still, they were horribly foolish to forget about it so quickly. Norns, they had conjured their daggers without a thought, but couldn’t think to aid Mobius with their magic when it counted?

Loki promised themself that that lapse in thought would be set aside and picked apart later. Right now, they had to help Mobius.

The Xantarean shrieked, swinging its cudgel in Mobius’s direction. He looked scared, but Loki could make out a glint in his eyes that they couldn’t quite recognize. Whatever it was would have to wait for later, though, because a horn blared from somewhere above and the big red menace charged. 

Mobius stood still and Loki wanted to scream at him to move, move, move! They had their magic at the ready. It was leaping and bubbling and zapping right below Loki’s skin, ready to be used for the first time in a good long while. They had to play it safe, though. If the Grandmaster caught wind of what they were going to do, there would be no need for a Tournament. 

They would both be executed, or worse. 

Although, if the Grandmaster truly did want to fix their TemPad, Loki knew he would keep one of them alive long enough for that to happen. 

And then he would kill them.

It was a safe assumption.

The Xantarean closed in on Mobius. Loki focused his magic, sitting on the edge of their seat. But just as they were about to flick their wrist and send the red beast flying, Mobius side-skirted it and rolled out of the way. The Xantarean charged right into the wall, raining down dust and sand. 

Mobius crouched in the sand a few meters away, one knee in the sand. His helmet had fallen off and his silver hair gleamed in the overhead spotlights. Even from afar, Loki could see the tiny beads of sweat gathering on his forehead. 

“Well, looks like your, uh, human isn’t as fragile as you made him out to be, huh, Sparkles?” The Grandmaster quipped from beside him. 

“Save it,” Loki hissed back. The Grandmaster just raised his eyebrows and smiled.

The Xantarean roared, and the sound could almost compete with the cheer of the crowd. But Mobius stood and wiped his brow, fearless. He spun his staff with his wrist and resumed his defensive stance. 

Loki certainly didn’t expect this from him. Perhaps he was wrong to think Mobius was only an analyst. To Loki he was much more, but, well, right now was much much more than Loki could have imagined. 

But he was still human. And when the Xantarean charged again, weapon flailing in the air, Loki let loose their magic. 

All it was was a fractile amount of magic placed carefully under the sand like a landmine. And all Mobius’s opponent had to do was keep on charging and it would soon know that this particular human was naught to be trifled with. 

But Mobius did something unexpected. 

As soon as the Xantarean began on its path, Mobius started to run toward the beast. That certainly wasn’t something they expected Mobius to do. Absently, they heard the Grandmaster chuckle at them, and they closed their jaw which had fallen agape in surprise. 

“No, you fool,” Loki whisper-hissed, urgently redirecting the magic bomb back to themself and trying to predict what the Hel Mobius was going to do. The agent and beast closed in on each other, and just as Loki was preparing to hit it with a blast of magic that would send it off balance, Mobius slid to his knees and used his momentum to carry himself right between the Xantarean’s legs. 

The cudgel came swinging down a second later.

A plume of sand shot up into the air and Loki lost sight of Mobius for a moment, but they held their breath for what felt like forever. 

When Mobius darted out the other side of the sand cloud, Loki let out their breath all at once. The crowd didn’t sound too happy, though. 

Mobius attacked the Xantarean with his staff and a loud crack rang out in the arena. Half his staff cartwheeled in the air and landed a handful of yards away. Loki regretted letting out that breath too soon. 

The crowd laughed and the monster growled, slowly turning around to stare Mobius down. 

It was lightning fast, the way the beast moved. One second Mobius was recovering from the shock of having his only means of defense and attack snapped like a twig, and in the next, he was blocking an attack with a golden staff, the metal humming with the impact of the Xantarean’s weapon. 

Loki saw Mobius whip his head toward the booth, and they could practically hear the ‘good boy’ drawling from his mouth, the grateful look in his eyes sending a zing of pain through Loki’s heart. 

They did, however, receive a suspicious look from the Grandmaster which had their hands quickly bereft of magic. 

The next attacks had Loki working overtime to counteract; a magical shield here, a convenient trip there, a not-so-discreet illusion that was good enough for them in the circumstances all around. But even with all Loki’s efforts, Mobius was still struggling to keep up with the Xantarean’s attacks. When he whirled around to parry, the monster clipped him with its cudgel and sent Mobius tumbling. However, though bloody and beaten, he kept getting back up.

Mobius made a valiant—and surprisingly convincing—show of convincing the crowd that everything that was happening was of his own power. The staff received something akin to a personality with the way Mobius swung it around and made it look like the magic was sourced from it. He was even making his own sound effects, which under any other circumstance Loki would consider adorable.

However, Loki couldn’t keep the illusion up for much longer. The Grandmaster was seriously starting to eye Loki with contempt, and he was running out of energy to constantly conjure up clever ways to protect Mobius. 

So, when the Xantarean looked sufficiently bruised and knocked around, Loki decided to send a powerful burst of magic on the beast and turn it into a goat, much to the approval of the crowd. It went up in a flourishing plume of soot-gray and gold dust, and flecks of it landed in Mobius’s sweat-dampened hair and made it glimmer. 

The crowd cheered for him, nicknaming him in a hundred different languages. It was perhaps the only beautiful thing that came from this garbage planet, Loki thought. 

But before they could celebrate their joint effort win, the Grandmaster dropped a hand on their shoulder. 

“That was quite a show out there, don't cha think, Sparkles?” 

Loki hummed. “You’ll find that I don’t play by the rules either, Grandmaster,” they replied, hoping to send all the messages they needed. They really didn’t want a repeat of that match, or any version of payback the Grandmaster might think was appropriate for them. The man’s eyes just narrowed, a thin smile on his face. 

“Touche,” He said, but his eyes didn’t convey any yield. “However, I can’t be the Grandmaster if something doesn’t go my way. Whatever you did to make your little human win can’t ever happen again, I’m sure you understand. The Xantarean was my best champion, but now that it’s been defeated…well, you know how championships go, don’t you?” The hand on their shoulder tightened along with the Grandmaster’s smile. Loki could tell the man was fuming inside but desperately trying to keep himself under control for everyone undoubtedly watching and waiting for his reaction. 

Loki nodded in response. “Good boy, Sparkles. Your human’s just gonna have to do another battle, now isn’t he? How does that feel, knowing you saved him only to throw him back to the wolves? Can’t be good, I imagine. But here’s how things are going to work,” he said, but Loki knew they were the ones in control here. The Grandmaster was on the cusp of making a complete fool of himself by allowing a human to win, so Loki knew that they were about to strike a deal. Whether or not they could swing it in their favor was the problem. “I believe myself to be a benevolent ruler, someone who gives fair chances to everyone. So, in the spirit of fairness, I’ll allow you to return home with your human if he is able to defeat another Champion. Unaided ,” he added just as soon as Loki’s eyes lit up. But no, they could do that. It was possible. Whatever Champion the Grandmaster had up his sleeve could not possibly compare to the Xantarean. 

“Very well,” Loki agreed immediately, staring the man straight in his eyes. “But I must see him now because he obviously needs medical attention, and if he dies from his wounds, you’ll never have the TemPad fixed.”

That made the Grandmaster scowl. He pretended to mull it over, stroking his chin, but Loki knew they had him cornered. If he didn’t do as they asked, the TemPad wouldn’t be fixed. It was a lose-lose situation for him, and Loki stifled their urge to preen at how quickly the odds turned in their favor. 

Loki just hoped it would stay like that until they retrieved their TemPad and got Mobius to fix it. 

“I can arrange someone to fetch him medical supplies. Now go, I have to explain to my citizens why a human won against their beloved Champion. It won’t be pretty.”

Loki hoped not. They stood as two guards appeared beside them to escort them back to their room. They didn’t like it, but what other choice did they have?

It was a long way back to their room, but all the while Loki was planning their route and scouting potential exits. Anything and everything they could glean would be useful, especially when the time came for Loki to stab the Grandmaster in the back and run off with Mobius and a fully functional TemPad. 

It felt good to have a halfway-formed plan. 

When the guards finally dispensed Loki at the doors to the holding cells, they wouldn’t go any further. An oversight on their part, Loki inwardly laughed, but all fun flew out the window when they stepped inside. 

The first thing that hit them was the stench. It was atrocious, urine and sweat and blood assaulted their nose and Loki was forced to stall at the threshold, struggling for breath. The second thing that hit them was a stone, thrown by some amalgamous rock creature waving its arms and jumping wildly. Loki gave it an appalled look and soldiered on, peering through the electrical screens and hoping to catch a glimmer of silver hair. 

But the only thing he caught was another rock. Loki was starting to feel murdersome. 

“Hey! Hey you! Broody, surprisingly good-looking dude! Over here!” 

Loki was also starting to feel perturbed about the assumptions made about their gender. Perhaps they could let off some steam with the rock creature that was trying its damdest to acquire their attention. 

“Throw one more rock at me and I swear to Hel I’ll gut you like a fish,” they hissed, storming toward the cell. “And I’ll have you know—” 

But Loki cut themself off as the rock-thing stepped aside to reveal Mobius, slumped over on the floor, and leaning back against the wall. 

“Oh, Norns,” they whispered, rushing to the cell’s screen and pressing their hand to it. Loki sucked in a breath when it zapped them, but they shook it off and tried to get Mobius’s attention.

“Mobius! I’m here, I’m here, what happened to you? I thought I was protecting you with my magic, what went wrong?” 

Mobius looked up at them, a stream of blood melting down the right side of his face. The orange paint stripes were somehow still clinging to his face, although they were faded and smudged. He could barely open his right eye and was clutching his side. A smile bloomed on his face though, and even his teeth were stained red. 

“Hey, Lokes. I’m fine, really, a few of the guards just roughed me up a bit, that’s all. Must not’ve liked seeing their beloved Champion get beat like that, hah,” Mobius wheezed, trying to pull himself into a better position, wincing with every movement. 

“Mobius…” Loki lamented, getting as close as they could without shocking themself again. Damned chips, they swore. They’d have to find a way to rid themself of the menace on their neck soon or else things would only get more complicated. 

“I spoke with the Grandmaster and we made a deal. Do not give me that look, Mobius. I know what I’m getting myself into, I’m not naive. I have a plan, if you can bring yourself to believe that.”

Mobius cracked a smile at that and Loki’s heart gave a sad squeeze. 

“Loki…I trust you, you know that, right? But I don’t trust this megalomaniacal freak upstairs. Whatever he has up his sleeve can’t be good. I know you’re the God of Mischief, Lokes, but I just don’t think there’s any reasoning with this guy.”

The man’s face fell in a long frown, his eyes big and round and pleading for something Loki didn’t understand.

“Mobius, do you remember when we first met and you took me to that awful cafe for salads?” Mobius gave a shallow, confused nod. “Good, and do you remember what I said when you told me I had a golden reputation for always stabbing people in the back? Yes, I said that I would never do something like that again, but, well, I believe the circumstances are allowing, don’t you think? I have no intention of doing good on my deal, as I am certain the same can be said for the Grandmaster. No, we will have you win this next match one way or another and then we will transport ourselves back to the TVA and never set foot on this wretched planet ever again.” Loki ended their speech with a breathless huff, looking intensely at Mobius, who was smiling back at them. 

He mimicked Loki’s huff but nodded his head. “Alright, Lokes, I’ll give it a try. I trust you. But how do you plan on using your magic without the Grandmaster noticing? I’m sure he didn’t like that you interfered.”

Loki hummed, a smile spreading on their lips. 

“Well, on the way down here with those noisome guards, I got a pretty good look at most of the rooms and passages in this labyrinth of a so-called palace. And, stay with me now, dear, I discovered their armory. Hundreds of stolen chest plates, guards, helmets, weapons, anything you can think of, it’s there. Especially the Hunter gear. Whatever impossible material they’re made of is beyond me, but in my experience, it’s held up better than any other armor I’ve known. And, well, I suppose it cannot withstand Xantarean strength, but it’s good enough for me. For you, though—”

“Get to the point, Lokes, we don’t have lots of time.” Mobius interrupted. Loki’s mouth twisted but they continued on.

“For you, I would sneak into their armory and enchant a set of Hunter gear. Then, I’d bring it down here where you would swap your current set, and nobody would ever be able to tell the difference! Except for the numbers, I suppose, but nobody would have been paying much attention to that, I’m sure. How does that sound for a plan, hm?”

Loki practically preened when Mobius expressed his approval of their plan. 

“Very good. Shall I leave now? Or would you like me to stay here until the guards come with treatment?”

But Mobius shook his head. “No, I don’t think anyone’s actually coming with medicine, Loki. If I were you, I wouldn’t waste time on me. Get to the armor and do your thing, I’ll be fine here for now. Just don’t get into any trouble, ‘kay?” 

Loki nodded, promising that if anything happened, they’d come straight back to the cells. 

Taking one last look at Mobius, Loki turned away from the electric screen and exited the pits, silently rejoicing when they were able to take a proper, clean breath of air. 

For a brief moment, Loki was lost. Their mind had been laser-focused on finding a way to help Mobius that everything important had ebbed away. But now they were back on track, digging back into their brain to recognize all the landmarks and signs that led to the armory. 

A few guards were posted outside when they arrived, but an effortless illusion sent them chasing down the halls after a rugged-looking prisoner. Loki smiled at their work but quickly slipped past the doors and into the armory. 

Inside, the walls were lined with all different kinds of armor, ranging from simple iron chest plates to extravagantly decorated headpieces and sculpted gloves and boots. They hung on the walls like trophies, and in the very back Loki spied several sets of Hunter gear. 

Along with a woman, clad in black leather armor, white stripes beneath her eyes which were trained directly on them. It was the person from the alley they were ambushed in. But now, Loki had a good look at her, and there was no way out of the armory except past them. 

“Fancy meeting you again,” the woman said, dismissing the decorated blades she was examining—although to Loki, it looked suspiciously akin to stealing—and turning to fully face them. 

“Quite unfortunate for you, actually.” Loki conjured two identical daggers and began to stalk forward with obvious intent, but before they could get close enough the woman produced a small black remote and a shock zapped through them, forcing Loki to clench their teeth and fall on one knee. 

Damn chip. 

“No, actually, it’s unfortunate for you. It really is funny to see you again, though. I got quite a bit of credits for you; I bet if I turn you in for sneaking around the palace like this, I could receive a whole lot more, don’t you think?”

Loki tried grinding their teeth, but that only made the buzzing aftershocks worse. “Wouldn’t a scavenger like you be thrown in the cells for snooping around like this? I bet you’re not even supposed to be here, hence the terrified look when you saw me come in. Oh, didn’t think I noticed, now? How unfortunate for you.”

The woman’s face soured, but she released the button and Loki let out a slightly embarrassing gasp of relief. 

“What do you want here?” She asked, crossing her arms and leveling a cold stare at Loki. They dusted themself off and got back to their feet. 

“First, you’ll release this device from my neck. I’m no stranger to electricity, but that thing still hurts like Hel.” Surprisingly the woman actually complied and pressed a button on the remote that released the chip with a sharp hiss and light pinch. About time, they thought. “And secondly, I’m here for the Hunter gear behind you.”

The woman looked behind her, then back to them, then over her shoulder again, then back to Loki. Then she laughed. “You want that? You can’t be serious, it looks like plastic and polymer!”

“It’s no concern of yours why I need it, woman. And who even are you? Other than a desperate, selfish trafficker.”

The woman had the audacity to look offended at their comment, but she lifted her chin defiantly. 

“My name is Val. And I guess you have stuck around long enough for it to matter, which is beyond me. Usually by this time people like you have already been melted or brainwashed by the Grandmaster. So I’ll ask you a question of my own: Who are you ? And what makes you so special that the Grandmasters kept you around for so long?”

Loki hummed, debating whether or not to divulge their personal identity. It could have adverse consequences, but it could also provide them with an ally or advantage. Or both. Both would be very nice. 

“I’m Loki, Prince of Asgard and rightful heir to the Throne. That is what makes me special, but I’m here with a mortal man who needs my help, and if I don’t get that armor, he won’t make it through his next Tournament alive.”

Val looked at Loki like they had just told her the fates of Skuld. They raised an eyebrow, tightening their grip on their daggers. 

“You’re from Asgard?” 

“That is what I said, yes. I’m the Prince of Asgard.”

Val narrowed her eyes and scowled. 

“Nice try, Loki. You can’t make me go back to Asgard. I refuse,” she spat, and then she was attacking them, hands flying and the blades she had absolutely intended on stealing flying toward their face. 

Loki ducked but didn’t dodge her next punch. They flinched back but immediately recovered, parrying her next flurry of attacks with their forearms and daggers. It was quick like lightning, back and forth, punch, kick, jab, twirl, stab. Loki attempted to use their magic to suspend her hands, but she was too quick for them to properly cast a spell. 

“Why the Hel are you attacking me?” 

“ Don’t you say her name,” Val hissed, and all of a sudden Loki blocked another attack, looked down, and saw a familiar symbol tattooed on her forearm. 

“You’re a Valkyrie,” Loki said, their voice slightly taunting, but they were quickly jabbed in the throat. They sputtered and stumbled back, raising their hands passively. “Alright! Okay, I surrender. Just wait a moment,” they wheezed, trying to catch their breath. 

“Whatever you think I’m trying to do, I assure you I’m certainly not.” 

“So you’re not trying to drag me back to Asgard, back to Odin, to fight for some pathetic, useless war? You’re not trying to swindle me into giving up my freedom, the life I built here, just so you can sacrifice me to some being infinitely stronger than any Aesir known to the nine realms? You’re not trying to send me into another battle?” 

“No, none of that! I’m just here for Mobius! He’s the only thing I care about in this wretched world, and right now you’re making it incredibly difficult for me to save him from fighting a battle he’ll certainly lose! Does that sound familiar to you?”

Val paused, her longsword raised above her shoulders. Her face was murderous, but she pursed her lips and scrunched up her nose. She let out a big puff of air, but ultimately lowered her sword.

“This Mobius, he’s Midgardian?” Loki nodded. “I knew a Midgardian once; she was like a mother to me. But Hela’s conquest for power burned her village and killed everyone who stood in their way. The Grandmaster is much like her. He holds no value for the lives he takes in that arena.”

“Yet you kidnap ‘people like me’ and sell us to him. How does that make you any better?”

“I never said I was better than him,” Val spat. “I want to see him dead and these people liberated. But I can’t…I can’t stop. I need the money, and if I refuse to stop, he’ll just take me instead. I’m no better, if not worse.”

“I wish him dead and buried, too. But if I have any hope of getting home with Mobius, he has to stay alive. He has our only way back hidden somewhere in the palace, which is why I need that armor to enchant and give him his best shot at winning the match that will guarantee us our freedom.”

Val’s brows knitted together in confusion. “How on earth were you able to make a deal with the Grandmaster?”

“He doesn’t play fair, but neither do I. We defeated his Champion with my magic, and the sheer embarrassment forced him to try and make a fool of me. Little does he know, nobody makes a fool of Loki Laufeyson. So, I agreed to his terms, but by enchanting this set of armor, Mobius will become nearly untouchable.”

“That…that actually seems like a sound plan, mate. But you must know that if it does end up succeeding, the Grandmaster will absolutely go back on his word. What if he destroys your only way back to Asgard?”

Loki was confused for a brief moment but remembered all too suddenly that Val had no idea about the TVA. ‘Home’ to her meant Asgard. They felt a little prick of pity and longing, but decided to ignore it. She didn’t have to know the TemPad led to the TVA, only that Loki needed it. 

“He would not; that maniac believes the device that transported us here will grant him unfathomable power. I intend to keep him thinking that, which ensures the safety of it. There is no other way home for us.”

Val gave them a long look, but ultimately just sighed, her posture slumping slightly. “Well…if you’re so certain that your plan will work, I want a part in it.”

Loki let out a baffled noise. That certainly wasn’t part of the plan. “What do you mean you want a part in it? Have you so easily forgotten the fact I’m only here because you kidnapped me and Mobius? Why should I divulge the deeper intricacies of my masterful plan with the risk that you stab me in the back, hm?”

Val just rolled her eyes. “Yeah, mate, look, I know I kidnapped and sold you and your boyfriend into slavery, but I had to look out for myself first!”

“Which is precisely why I don’t want you tagging along!” 

“Oh, don’t be such a drama queen! You need me, whether you like it or not. I know every hidden room and passage in this shithole of a labyrinth, and I’m confident that I can find your transportation device faster than your good ol’ Mobius can die in his fight. Just puttin’ that out there,” She added when Loki gave her a positively murderous look for that comment. 

“You don’t even know what you’re looking for.”

“Then enlighten me! Gods, it’s like you’ve never made a deal before.”

Ignoring that comment, Loki shot back, “How do I know you won’t just take it and leave us here like blundering chumps? How can I know you won’t galavant away knowing that I have something the Grandmaster wants so badly he’ll strike up a deal?”

“Oh for the love of Odin, you’ll just have to trust me!”

Suddenly, shouts from the front of the chamber interrupted their argument. Loki swiveled, daggers out again, but Val wasn’t done.

“Look, Loki, I know we’ve just met, but I once swore an oath to protect the citizens of Asgard. I was— am —a Valkyrie, it’s what I was made for. Let me help you, let me repay a fraction of the harm I’ve done, and I promise I can get you and your Midgardian back home.”

Loki looked from Val to the doors, then over their shoulder to Val, then back to the doors. Then they huffed an exasperated breath and nodded. 

“Alright, okay, fine. But don’t think I’ve let down my guard.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, mate,” Val replied. “But speaking of guards, I think our friends outside are gonna barge in any second now. How about I cover you while you get your special armor and get out of here, and I’ll rough em’ up a bit then make a daring escape to look for your device. How’s that sound?”

She sounded so confident that Loki almost forgot how improbable that scenario would go. But nonetheless, they agreed.

“Just make sure you’re looking for a slim, copper-looking box!” They called after Val as she charged headfirst into the small crowd of guards that had poured into the room. Loki guessed that their illusion had worn off and they’d realized the dupe. 

Oh, well. They had the armor now, and all they had to do was shift themself to appear as one of the guards and slip past into the hallway. Easy peasy. Val gave them one last glance, winking as they nodded to her. 

She was definitely a character, Loki thought. 

When they made it back to the cells, something was off. It still reeked as strongly as the last time, but it was somehow quieter, stiller. Loki made a bee-line to Mobius’s cell and let out a relieved breath when they found him still sitting on the floor. 

More than just a twinge of guilt passed through them when Loki was reminded of just how well off they were in this situation. They couldn’t imagine how Mobius felt, beaten and bloody and crammed into a filthy communal cell with who knew how many diseases. But there was no reason to waste time debating circumstance; Loki had a job to do and a Mobius to save. 

“Mobius, I have the armor,” they whispered. Mobius picked his head up and Loki immediately knew something had happened. He looked exactly the same, not even his position had changed. But Loki just knew. “What’s the matter? What did they do to you, Mobius?”

He only shook his head, defeated. 

“They took Korg. They said it was my time to compete, but he insisted they take him instead. God, Loki, I know I shouldn’t get attached to time-dwellers, but…” 

Loki felt a lump form in their throat. They wanted to comfort him, tell him that everything would be alright and that Korg would be fine and that they would get off this planet without a scratch because they were finally able to make a halfway decent allegiance that they didn’t intend on betraying. Mobius should be proud, not rotting away in a place so unsuited for a man like him. If anyone should be like this, it was them. They wished with all their heart that they could swap places, share some of Mobius’s pain. 

“Mobius…”

“It’s okay, Lokes, I know. We’re gonna get out of this. I promise. Did you run into any trouble while getting the armor?”

“No—well, yes, but it worked out in my favor.” Mobius raised an eyebrow at that. “Tsk, there you go again, doubting me. I assure you, Mobius dear, all is well. Come on, take these.”

Loki passed the armor through the screen, unsure how exactly they were able to, but guessed it had something to do with the chip being gone. 

"I met a woman named Val in the armory; she was the one who kidnapped us and sold us to the Grandmaster.” Loki continued when Mobius opened his mouth to no doubt protest against it. “She used the remote to free me, and she wants the Grandmaster dead just as badly as we do, Mobius. We’re working towards a common goal, you must understand.”

Mobius’s mouth remained ajar, but he wasn’t protesting, so Loki considered it a win. “She’s also promised me that she’ll find the TemPad, which means that we can focus on keeping you safe from whatever Champion the Grandmaster decides to throw at you.”

“Loki, we can’t rely on a human trafficker to help us! What was she even doing in the armory? Stealing? Trying to sell more bodies?”

“No, Mobius! If you would just listen to me—”

But Loki was cut off when a commotion from down the hall sounded and two armed guards appeared.

“Gods damn ,” Loki hissed, flicking out their hands and summoning up their magic. “This might tickle a little, dear, but I’d wager it’ll feel better than being pummeled to death.” Mobius just rolled his eyes, shimmying into the armor. Loki worked quickly, murmuring spells and prayers into the armor, enchanting it with a golden sheen.

“Damn, Loki, you didn’t have to sugarcoat it,” Mobius said, standing up on his own.

“Yes, well, it’s much easier to manage the pain of your wounds rapidly healing when you’re immortal. I did try to warn you, Mobius.”

“Yeah, yeah, just get outta here already. I’ll be fine as long as I have you looking out for me up in that booth thing.”

Loki nodded, standing as well. But before they left for good, they peeked behind the corner one last time to whisper, “I love you,” to Mobius. His eyes grew, but he mouthed it back, slumping to the ground just as the guards appeared and Loki glamoured themself. 

“Time for my match, fellas?” Loki heard Mobius ask. The guards only grunted, presumably hauling him to his feet and taking him away. Loki’s heart throbbed, but they pushed it down. Now was not the time to become sentimental. 

They had a job to do.

Chapter Text

Well, Loki thought they had a job to do.

They didn’t anticipate the Grandmaster had other plans.

Music blasted in Loki’s ears, the heavy thrum of bass syncing with their heartbeat. The room was awash in dark color, neon light cascading around in circles, illuminating faces that danced in the shadows.

It was wretched.

Loki sat alone in a small booth near one of the walls. The Grandmaster had introduced them as his “guest of honor.” Somehow, Loki didn’t feel very honored.

There was a thin smoke wafting through the air from countless sources: people smoking from hookahs, carbon dioxide pouring out of exotic drinks, scantily dressed partygoers dragging from long dark pipes. Loki grimaced at the smell, twirling the little umbrella in the drink they hadn’t dared to touch. It was all so trivial, Loki thought. They should be by Mobius’s side, finding a way out, not sitting idly by in a wretchedly uncomfortable booth trying not to make eye contact.

They saw Grandmaster only a couple of times, always swarmed by a gaggle of swooning lackeyes. It made their skin crawl, imagining being one of them.

“They look like dogs, don’t they?”

Loki whipped his head back to their booth, struggling to suppress their jump. A woman sat across from them, her hair braided in an intricate design, like a halo above her head. She wore a colorful bodysuit, gold stripes crossing on her body, her makeup styled similarly. She looked friendly, open, but Loki wasn’t about to let their guard down just for a sweet smile and a pretty face.

“Yes, they do,” Loki replied, leveling a strong look at the woman. She raised an eyebrow and quirked her lip, seeming to understand their jab.

“You seem lonely, friend. How about we get to know each other?”

“Absolutely not.”

“You’ve hardly touched your drink, Sparkles, why so glum?” The Grandmaster shouted beside Loki, a woman on his arm and a mostly empty bottle of…something in his hand. This time they did jump, startling their drink and spilling a little over the sugar-coated rim. The man was clearly intoxicated, but apparently, it did nothing to his charisma.

“Ohh, I see you’ve met one of my dancers! Cheeky fox, you. Why don’t you take a sip for us, huh? Don’t be such a party pooper, get lively!”

Loki looked from the Grandmaster to the woman then to their drink. It was clear that he wasn’t going to leave until he saw them drink, so Loki cautiously picked up their drink and brought it to their lips. The concoction tasted like cherries and ecstasy, and when they looked back at the Grandmaster, he was grinning strangely, enough so that Loki magicked away the liquid and pretended to swallow.

“Hope you enjoy the party, Sparkles, you’ll never find another quite like it!” The Grandmaster called as he strolled away from their booth.

“I sure hope I won’t,” Loki mumbled, turning their head and spitting out the drink. Best to do it here and not forget that it was stored in their little pocket of magic to rediscover later.

“Neat trick,” the supposed dancer from across the booth said.

“Attend enough parties like this and you’ll find it’s necessary.”

The woman gave Loki another look and they began to regret their choice of words. She had obviously been to most—if not all—of these parties. Perhaps she was indentured here, or just sold as another slave by someone like Val.

“I’m Seroro Zir Riki, and I think we’re more similar than you think. But I’m only saying that because it’s obvious you’re not like the other ‘guests of honor’ the Grandmaster has introduced here. Am I wrong?”

Loki looked her up and down, but shook their head no. They didn’t want to be associated with any of this.

“See? We’ve already got something in common. I want out of here just as badly as you do, but I have a hunch that you’re the only one who can actually pull it off.”

She was certainly confident in that, possibly even more than Loki was in themself.

“Listen, Seroro Zir…do you have a nickname or something I can call you? Perhaps an alternative title?”

The woman scoffed, “Do you have a nickname?”

Loki rolled their eyes.“You can’t really shorten Loki. You could call me God of Mischief, though, if you’re so confident in my skill.” They added that last bit because Loki would be damned if they lost their pride on this place. They were still a god, they weren’t helpless.

The woman—Seroro, Loki decided they would call her—raised her brows. Finally, an appropriate reaction to hearing their title.

“So you’re a god, huh? Why haven’t you blasted your way out of here, then? Or have you been blind to this place? Or cursed? I’ll admit, I don’t know much about how gods work, I’ve never met one—“

“The Grandmaster has more than one thing he can dangle above my head to keep me here. However, I will rather let myself be slaughtered in those tournaments of his than wither away under another’s rule.”

“My thoughts exactly. So, what would these things be? I’m sure you know more than one way to get back what rightfully belongs to you.”

Loki hummed, low and contemplative. Seroro was certainly not overly fond of the Grandmaster, but could they trust her? It would surely be a leap of faith from Loki, but they had a feeling in their gut. And Loki always trusted their intuition.

“There’s a small, compact device that was stolen from me; it’s my only way home. If I have it back, not only will I return home, but the Grandmaster will be unable to harness its power. And trust me,” Loki said without hesitation. “He cannot.”

Seroro hummed. “Ah, I see. Well, God of Mischief, I’m on your side. You’ll find that I can be quite persuasive in getting information,” she gave a pointed look at where the Grandmaster had departed to. “Given the right circumstances. So what do you say we cause a bit of mischief, hm? This party could use a bit of fun.”

Somehow, Loki felt compelled to comply. They were itching to get back at the Grandmaster, if only in the form of some…light mischief. Seroro stood, having been called by one of her dance partners. She gave Loki a wink and patted the top of their hand twice. Then she was gone, and Loki had a tiny vial of liquid gripped tightly in their palm.

Oh, they would cause some mischief, alright.

Loki stood, vile tucked snug in the cuff of their sleeve, and sauntered over to the bar. The bartender was a lean-looking, blue-skinned man with tattoos snaking up his arms, which were currently preoccupied with shaking a cocktail shaker in the air. He looked almost purple under the light, but Loki didn’t have any suspicion he was Jotuun, perhaps Centaurian, possibly Kree.

Loki leaned on the lip of the bar, pretending to admire the man’s looks or the way he effortlessly constructed a drink.

“Like what you see?” The man asked as he served the drink to a partygoer. Loki just smiled, mustering up their charm and slathering it over their face.

“Think you could make one of those for the Grandmaster’s special guest?” They asked, piling on the charm. If they were forced to be here, they might as well make the best of it.

And Loki thought that they were particularly adept at making the best out of shitty situations.

“Sure thing, sugar,” the man replied. Loki smiled a little too widely at how easy it was. The man set aside the liquor he was handling to prepare another beverage, twirling it in the air and pouring sheen, light green liquid into a shallow cocktail glass. Whatever the sheen was, Loki didn’t care. Whatever kind of drug or stimulant that no doubt tainted every drink in here wasn’t their concern, as long as it didn’t affect them.

The blue man slid them their drink and Loki gave them a saccharine smile in exchange.

“On the house,” he said with a wink. Loki just hummed politely and snatched the drink, heading away from the bar and toward the Grandmaster. They popped open the vile, slipped it into the drink, then magicked it away.

Loki was nearly at the Grandmaster’s side when they felt a body next to them.

“Watch’ya doing with that, mate?”

If it weren’t for Val’s voice, Loki might have spilled the drink with their spiked nerves. But their surprise quickly turned to agitation.

“What are you doing here, Val?” Loki hissed, hounding her away from the Grandmaster’s group. She didn’t look as upset as Loki did, but she had a frown on her face and a look in her eyes.

“I’ve searched everywhere he stashes his valuables; theres no ‘copper box!’ The only other place it could be is on him.”

Loki grumbled, looking over their shoulder at the man, lost in boisterous conversation. “I was just about to poison him with this,” they sharply replied, refraining from thrusting the drink in her face.

“That’s a terrible plan! And how did you even get poison?!” Val whisper-shouted. Loki just rolled their eyes.

“Oh, don’t be dramatic, it shouldn’t do him permanent harm. And I acquired it from someone with a mutual hatred for the man.”

Val groaned, palming her face. “You cannot be serious right now…”

“I’m perfectly serious!”

“Just give me that; the Grandmaster trusts me more than he trusts you, especially with all that trickster magic you’ve got going on. It’ll be best if I offer it to him so that you don’t risk yourself, and so I can easily get information. And possibly your getaway machine…”

Loki didn’t think they imagined the hint of spite in her last words, but they brushed it off.

“Fine, but don’t think this means that I owe you double, now. You’re volunteering this time.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Val replied, giving them a wink and snatching the glass from Loki’s hand. Loki rolled their eyes, but resumed their spot by the wall, watching Val strut over and effortlessly absorb into the Grandmaster’s conversation. They saw Val offer the drink, saw the Grandmaster accept it, and saw him take a slow sip.

The smile he gave her was no less than vile. Loki couldn’t even suppress a shudder, so they turned away in search of Seroro. Perhaps she and Val were already acquainted, but Loki knew that was just wishful thinking.

After a while, they returned to sulking at their booth, watching the party drone on, occasionally peeking out to get updates on how Val was doing. With every check, Loki noticed the Grandmaster become more and more boisterous and, well, grand. His movements became wider, his laughs louder, but his circle of loyal followers dwindled. Perhaps this was a sign that the party was wrapping itself up, Loki thought.

But just as they began to stand up, a hand gripped their elbow and forced Loki to turn around.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone?” A wide-shouldered, deep-voiced person asked. Well, more so demanded.

Loki sniffed at them, looking down their nose even though they had about an inch and a half on Loki.

“I beg your pardon,” they scoffed, but the brute didn’t care to listen.

“How about I show you around my rooms, hmm? I promise it’ll be much more entertaining than here.”

Oh, absolutely not, Loki thought with no small amount of disgust.

“Unhand me instantly, you brute. Do you have any idea who I am?” They hissed, magic rumbling just below the surface of their skin.

“Don’t know, don’t care. C’mon already and put that mouth to better use.”

That was the last straw to snap Loki’s patience. In a flash, they had their wrist back to themself and their pester was gone in a plume of dark, emerald-speckled smoke. It caught the attention of a good portion of the crowd, but Loki turned on their smile and took a grand, dramatic bow.

However, when they looked back up, the Grandmaster had his eyes trained right on them. Thankfully, though, Val appeared to their rescue and began to guide the Grandmaster toward the doors, slinging an arm around him with a drink in hand and a warbling song about his greatness tumbling from her lips.

Hopefully, she wasn’t intoxicated, too.

Loki tried to look around for Seroro again, but amid people crowding around them to ask questions and gawk, they couldn’t quite get a good look.

A few guards began to approach Loki after the Grandmaster had said something into their ears, but Loki wasn’t planning on staying long to figure out what it was.

In a flash of green, two trays of sparking…something exploded into the air, the servers carrying them slipping on the spilled liquid. The crowd gasped, a few extravagantly dressed people exclaiming louder than the others, and Loki took that opportunity to create multiple illusions of themself.

Sure, some part of that was executed in panic, but Loki considered it a win when they saw the confused look on the guards’ faces, eyes darting from one Loki to the next.

However, they were able to make it to the exit, the Grandmaster and Val nowhere to be seen. Hopefully, she was getting information out of the man.

Loki wasn’t going to imagine she betrayed them, that would only cause undue stress. And besides, she had every opportunity to rat them out and she didn’t.

It felt kind of good—reassuring, almost—that someone had their back in all this.

There was one more thing for Loki to do, though.

They followed the pull of their magic upstairs and through hallways, past hundreds of doors and windows and chambers. Finally, at what seemed to be the top of a spire, Loki arrived at a set of white double doors. They knocked twice, waited a few moments, then heard a three-knock response from the other side. Loki breathed a sigh of relief.

“Password?”

“Mobius, I know you’re in there.”

Silence from the other side. Loki’s sigh this time was more annoyed than relieved.

“Pompeii. Now let me in, you fool.”

The doors hissed open and Loki saw Mobius on the other side. He wasn’t wearing the armor.

“What are you doing all the way up here?” They asked, hesitantly stepping past the threshold and into a red-and-white striped room. It was hideous, just like every other room in the palace, but there was a large, wide window on the left wall and a freakishly large bed on the back one. It must have belonged to the Xantarean or a previous champion.

“I could ask you the same question! How did you even find me?”

“I followed the pull of the armor I enchanted. Speaking of, where is it? And why aren’t you wearing it?”

“Hey, hey, calm down, Lokes. I’m perfectly fine now. The armor is hanging up in the closet over there; the guards didn’t seem to think it would help me any so they let me keep it. I took it off to clean up. This room has a bathroom and a shower, so I thought I’d wash off, you know?”

It was true, Mobius did look cleaner. Loki didn’t notice in their haste to find him. They heaved another sigh of relief and their frame slumped significantly..

“Right, I apologize. Are you feeling better? Have they fed you?”

Mobius nodded, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed, jerking his head to indicate that Loki followed. They sighed as they sank down onto the surprisingly comfortable bed, Mobius’s sturdy presence beside them.

“They gave me some kind of protein block to eat. Didn’t taste very good, but I’m not complaining. I’m assuming all this is for appearances, though; the room, food, privacy. I doubt the Grandmaster would’ve sent me here if his subjects weren’t parading around the streets wearing orange and throwing green glitter all over the place. Funny, huh? How their culture is centered around usurping idols but they’re unable to get rid of the one person who’s behind it all?”

Loki hummed in response. It was peculiar, but they knew firsthand how hard it could be to rise out of someone else’s shadow.

Mobius stroked their hair and Loki closed their eyes. “I was forced to attend a party the Grandmaster hosted in one of his bars. No, don’t worry,” Loki added when Mobius’s hand stalled. “Nothing bad happened to me. I did, however, meet another friend there. Her name is Seroro and she’s a dancer for the Grandmaster. She said she used to be powerful, and I believe that the Grandmaster somehow took her powers when he indentured her. She gave me a vial of something to slip into his drink, and thankfully Val was also there to leach information out of him. I think the vial was a truth serum, but it definitely had other adverse effects. Hopefully, she got him to reveal where he’s keeping the TemPad.”

Mobius leaned on Loki’s shoulder, resting his head. “This is sure one hell of a mission. We probably won’t even get overpay, hah,” Mobius chuckled. Loki smiled. They ran their fingernails lightly over the plane of Mobius’s back, the soft woolen shirt he was wearing soft on their hands. “I’m glad you’re alright, though.”

“Likewise. Though come to think of it, you never did tell me just how you learned all those combat moves, dear. You gave me quite the surprise, I’ll admit.”

Mobius laughed at that, turning his head to give Loki a peck on the cheek. “Yeah, I guess I owe you an explanation for that one, huh? Well, I used to be a Hunter, believe it or not. They used to train us to do all kinds of things, but now there are specialized forces and quadrants to deal with certain kinds of variants. I was one of the lucky guys who got to learn all the noise, every trick in the book. It was a lot, sure, but we were trained from the beginning to be able to handle it.”

“Why did you become an analyst, then?”

Mobius was silent for a minute. “I had to prune a child once. The entire timeline was at stake, but I hesitated. That moment caused the whole timeline to branch, and if it weren’t for another Hunter who had a stronger will than me, I probably wouldn’t be here today.”

“Well, I’m glad you are. Even in these…unfavorable conditions.”

That made Mobius laugh. “Yeah, you can say that again.”

“Do you think we’d be bothered up here?” Loki dared to ask. Mobius made a thoughtful noise, but nodded his head.

“As much as I’d like you to stay with me, Loki, I think the Grandmaster would be a little more than pissed if he found out that we were here together.”

Loki sighed. “That makes sense, unfortunately. I will miss you, though, my dear.” They said, returning the small kiss Mobius gave them. His skin was warm and his eyes were kind. It hurt to leave him, but eventually, they had to go.

“I’ll miss you, too, Lokes. Stay outta trouble, alright?”

Loki rolled their eyes but nodded, sliding off the bed and following Mobius to the doors.

“I’ll see you tomorrow for the final match. I still don’t know who or what you’ll be facing, but if I stumble upon Val or Seroro or anyone else who might be on our side, I’ll be sure to ask.”

“I know you’ll always have my back, love. Be safe.”

With one last kiss, Loki departed down the stairs, leaving Mobius alone in his suite.

Chapter Text

“Good morning people of Sakaar! This is your Grandmaster coming to you from inside the Champion’s Arena where we have a hell of a fight for you today! Who’s excited? Lemme hear you, people!”

Loki jolted awake with a gasp to the deafening roar of what had to be a million voices.

Where the—how the—who—???

Their limbs were tangled in blankets as they tried to right themself. Their heart pounded in their ears but Loki was able to get to their feet and kick off their blankets. A quick look around told them that they were in the bedroom they woke up in yesterday, if it weren’t already obvious from the blinding light pouring in from the gigantic window.

What was going on?

But then a moment of rare clarity, Loki was hit with memories from the day before. Mobius in the tournament, the TemPad, Val, and Seroro, the Grandmaster.

The Grandmaster.

Shit.

Loki tore out of their room, thankful to whatever goddess was watching over them that they chose to sleep in their clothes from the day before. The hallways were strangely vacant, but as Loki neared the Arena’s entrance and made their way to the Grandmaster’s booth, the cheers and hollers grew louder and louder.

They felt for the pull of their magic and almost cried when it came from the Arena. Loki ran a hurried hand through their hair, approaching the Grandmaster’s booth. Two unfortunately familiar guards stood watch outside, and as Loki neared, they lowered their spears and blocked Loki’s way.

“I demand to be let in. I have business with your Grandmaster, so you have no reason to refuse me.” They said in their most authoritative voice. The guards were unphased.

“Loki, how nice of you to finally join us!” A voice—the Grandmaster’s of course—called from inside. “Let our guest through, boys. Honestly, you should know better…” He rambled on, but Loki passed the guards and gave each a nasty glare.

Loki’s magic was at the ready and begging to be used, but they held a tight leash and promised that they’d blast this maniac when the time was right.

“So, which Champion have you chosen?” They questioned him. The man only waved a hand at them and told them to sit. Loki complied.

“You’ll see soon enough, Sparkles! Jeez Louise, you’re really an impatient one, aren'tcha? Just sit back and relax, you know the drill.”

Loki took a deep breath to calm themself. They looked out the windows but didn’t see Mobius or a second Champion. It was no worry, though. Their enchantments would hold, they had faith. It was only anxiety making them twist their sleeves and wring their hands. Nothing more.

“I was beginning to wonder where you were, but I guess my little announcement did the trick to fetch you. We’ll be starting soon, don’t look so worried. Sheesh, it’s not like you’ve got something personal on the line, huh?”

Loki decided they wouldn’t dignify that with a response.

“Ah, look, here comes the opening band!”

Slightly confused, Loki looked down at the pit but nobody was there. They were about to question the Grandmaster on his sanity, but suddenly a small ship fell from the sky. That caught their attention, and Loki looked up to see a battle waging in the air. Tens of flying crafts shot blasts and bullets at each other, explosions bursting overhead. Debris rained down but the crowd was unaffected. Loki looked on in fear.

“You call this an opening band?” They asked incredulously, inwardly wincing with every ship that hit the sand at the bottom of the pit. Who was going to clean that up? What even was the purpose of this?

“Don’t sound so saintly, Sparkles, jeez. You’re telling me that you’ve never forced a small army to battle it out for your entertainment? C’mon, lighten up. Nobody’s getting hurt.”

A small creature smacked against the window just as he spoke, slowly sliding down it until it was falling into the pit. This time, Loki didn’t manage to hide their grimace.

“I can’t say that I have,” They replied, deciding not to count their invasion of New York. That was an entirely separate can of worms that would stay tightly sealed for the time being.

The Grandmaster made an unconvinced noise and went back to idly watching the carnage unraveling above. Why they were even fighting at all was a mystery to Loki, but nonetheless, the crowd was amused and erupted in cheers with every ship that fell from the sky.

After a half hour, Loki assumed, the skies cleared and there was one battered, flaming ship left sputtering in the sky. The Grandmaster stood and cheered, the crowd along with him. The ship and its captain hovered there for a few moments until the spotlights disappeared and trained on the floor of the arena, blood-speckled sand coating the shrapnel and wrecked metal. The cheers reached a crescendo just as the two gates at the opposite ends began to rise. Loki was electric with nerves, their eyes trained on the far gate. They could feel the Grandmaster’s knowing smirk burning on the side of their face but couldn’t force their eyes away from the arena.

There was a booming metal clank as the gates shuddered open.

“You know, last night’s party was fun, yeah? The music, the people, the drinks. Did you ever get up to something with that dancer? Hm? Probably not, judging on how you didn’t even swallow a sip of that drink I so graciously gave you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Loki lied through their teeth.

“Sure you do, don’t lie.”

From the shadows, a figure began to emerge.

“I would never,” They shot back.

The crowd began to stomp their feet and wave white and blue light sticks around.

“Your friend says otherwise, God of Mischief.”

Loki’s head tilted to the side and they glared at the Grandmaster in suspicion, but he only waggled a lithe finger at the Arena.

Loki turned their head and their heart dropped.

Dark braided hair and a face painted with white stripes entered the Arena.

Silver hair and a soft but fatigue-hardened face appeared a second later.

Oh, so this was the final trick.

“You know, she tried to flatter me to get her way, but it reminded me so much of, uh, of a very certain someone that it, it didn’t quite work, y’know? At least she tried, I’ll give her that. What’s that saying? ‘Try and fail, but don’t fail to try?’ Yeah, well, she failed, lemme tell you something, hah.”

Any hope that Loki was still clinging to had just snuffed itself out. They clenched their jaw. Mobius would be safe; the armor would prove that. But Val didn’t find the TemPad. Or she did, but was caught and forced to fight Mobius.

“Why is she fighting him?”

It was the only logical thing to ask.

“Why not? She’s one of my best scrappers! If I’d put my bets on, on anyone on this planet, it’d be her.”

Loki’s stomach did a flip, cartwheel, somersault, nose-dive. They bit their tongue and forced themself not to bite it off. They could feel their magic swirling and begging to be released.

“And if Mobius wins, you’ll let us go.”

The Grandmaster looked at them for a long moment. Smiled.

“Yeah. Sure. And when he dies—sorry, sorry—if he dies, well…I still have you.”

A small green spark flashed as they grit their teeth particularly hard.

“You’ll regret this.”

“Pssh, lighten up, Sparkles. God, you’re such a party pooper, you know that?”

Loki bit back a snarl. They felt like everything was coiling up inside them and at any hair trigger they’d combust. Gods, they wished, if only to take this maniac with them.

From the Arena, one deep buzzer blared to signal the start of the fight. Loki had assumed the two would stall for time or at least negotiate some kind of deal. What they didn’t expect was Val’s warrior cry as she charged at Mobius, hurtling over the fallen debris and slashing her double-sided sword through the air.

The Grandmaster let out a soft half-laugh.

“If.”

Oh, Loki could strangle him.

As Val neared Mobius, Loki curled their magic around their fingers like a string.

“Uh uh uh, Loki. Remember our deal? No magic. I can’t afford to look like a fool this time.”

“I remember,” Loki retorted.

Their enchantment to Mobius’s armor was rudimentary but sound. They could only do so much with their magic when it was locked away from them for extended periods of time. Plus, Loki had only recently learned how to mimic the magic they had seen their Variant use against the Hunters.

Still, they had faith it would protect him. Val knew of Mobius; she didn’t necessarily know who he was, or what he meant to Loki, but surely she would recognize the magic on his armor and realize what they were up to.

Surely.

Mobius, on the other hand, stayed close to a large shuttle, his reinforced staff making a return that Loki was proud and relieved to see. He fumbled around for something that Loki couldn’t see, but just as soon as it looked like he found it, Val appeared from the other side and lashed out with her sword.

Loki’s breath hitched, but the armor held. The crowd gasped, but the Grandmaster raised a brow.

Mobius retreated back, staff held up between him and Val. It looked like he was trying to reason with her or explain their situation, but Val didn’t seem to want to listen.

Whatever happened between when she saved Loki from the Grandmaster’s attention at the party and now was beyond them. Perhaps she had backstabbed them and made a deal of her own. Or, perhaps, this was her plan all along.

It didn’t make sense to Loki, but then again, if they were in her position they’d probably have done the exact same thing.

Another attack with the double-sided sword came crashing down on Mobius’s staff. Val hacked away at the metal, forcing Mobius back, back, back. If he didn’t move soon, he was going to end up in a corner.

“Come on,” Loki encouraged him silently, their voice hushed and strained.

Val raised her arms high above her head, but Mobius took the opportunity and shoved her with his staff. She tripped over a heap of metal, sword clattering a few feet away.

Mobius jumped out of the corner and into a more open area of the pit. Val scrambled for her sword and followed, flipping Mobius off with a snarl. Mobius only shrugged his shoulders and grinned. Gods, he was starting to take after them a little too much, Loki thought.

Val stalked after him, rolling her wrist and the sword along with it. She dragged it alongside the hull of a ship, sparks flying in her wake. She was an elite warrior, trained to fight against the Realm’s most fearsome creatures.

Loki hated to admit it, but the Grandmaster certainly knew how to pick a Champion.

This time, Mobius was on the attack. With a similar strategy as when he fought the Xantarean, he met Val in the middle and just as it appeared that he was going to attack her full-on, Mobius slid on his knees and slammed his staff into Val’s shins.

The furious, pained cry that came from her was no short of blood-curdling. Even the Grandmaster winced.

“He’s got quite an arm on him, doesn’t he?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Loki winked, pride easing their nerves just a little.

However, they already knew it would take far more than that to down a Valkyrie. Mobius got back on his feet, rolling his staff in his hand, but Val caught him with a roundhouse kick that sent him right back down to the ground. A shimmer of green appeared as she hit his armor, but thankfully it wasn’t too noticeable for the people in the crowd.

Mobius got up again, but Val knocked him right back down. Up, then down again. At one point Val was able to cut through the enchantment and create a slash in Mobius’s chestplate. Loki sucked in a concerned breath.

“Think, Mobius, think.” Loki willed the man to consider his options. There was an opening to his right between the ravaged metal, an opportunity to bring down a teetering ship on top of her, and a divot in the sand in which a powerful shove could cause Val to trip and fall.

However he would make her surrender, Loki didn’t know. They had never known stories of a Valkyrie who gave up. But Loki had also never known Mobius to give up.

Mobius was on his feet again, blocking yet another onslaught of attacks from Val. Right hook, left faint, slash. Over and over again, but Mobius kept up well. He blocked and parried and rolled out of the way, sometimes even getting quite the blow in. Maybe, just maybe, Loki thought, they didn’t have to use any magic at all.

That was until he did something unexpected.

Mobius had taken Loki’s unspoken tactics and caused Val to stumble over the debris. He capitalized on the moment, encouraged by the roar of the crowd, and began to return Val’s vicious onslaught by attacking her with his staff. One blow to the abdomen, she stumbled back again. Another to the thigh, her shoulder, a lucky shot at the side of her head. The crowd boomed, some even switching the color of their light sticks to orange. He twirled to avoid her sword and delivered the heavy metal side of the staff square to the back of Val’s head.

The crowd gasped as she stumbled and fell to her knees in the sand, clutching the back of her head, sword forgotten. Blood was splattered in patches around the two, mixed into the sand, glittering in the spotlights. Mobius approached Val’s sword, taking it into his hands. But just as he was about to point it at the kneeling Valkyrie and demand she surrender, Mobius suddenly began to convulse and shudder, clutching his neck and falling to the ground.

Loki’s head was blank for exactly one second before they turned to their right and saw a small black remote in the Grandmaster’s hand.

“Stop it,” Loki demanded. The Grandmaster only fixed them with a smirk. “You said this was a fair fight! Stop it.”

“Listen, Sparkles, there’s one thing you gotta know about me,” he started, but Loki was fed up with his pitiful excuses and sordid demeanor.

“I may be the God of Lies, Grandmaster, but yours are the most wretched of them all.” They stood, gathering their magic in the palms of their hands. The guards standing around closed in quickly around them, but Loki sent them off with a wave of their hand. The Grandmaster stood now, a serious look on his face.

“Just try and use your magic. I have your only way home hidden away; with a snap of my fingers, I can have it destroyed. You wouldn’t dare use your magic against me. You can beg me not to. Go ahead, maybe I’ll listen.”

Loki looked out the window to Mobius’s form writhing on the ground. Val was nearby, but her focus was directed up at them as if she knew exactly what was happening.

“I don’t have to try to do anything. What you keep forgetting is that you’re dealing with a god. And gods do not beg.”

With an open palm raised at the windows, Loki let loose their magic. From their perspective, nothing was changing. The Arena stayed the same but Loki still poured their magic out, building and constructing an elaborate lie. Half a thought had them sending a projection of themself into the Arena to find Mobius and inform him of what was going on.

“What are you doing,” the Grandmaster demanded. Loki just smiled.

“I’m showing you real power. Not some cheap imitation of it.” Loki closed the distance between them and knocked the remote out of the Grandmaster’s hand. It went clattering to the ground, sliding out of reach. From outside, the crowd began to cheer and awe. Loki smiled again, their eyes turning a deeper shade of green. “Your greatest mistake was believing your own lie. Your arrogance has lured a snake into your garden, and now all your fruit will be poisoned.” They paused for dramatic effect, then continued with even more vigor. “Right now, I have cast an illusion over the entire Arena. Your subjects believe that Val is winning, that your Champion will be the victor. Imagine how many people have placed bets on your Champion. How many people believe that they’re guaranteed a win just because your Champions have never lost? I’ll tell you, there’s nothing worse than a man who lost a bet. They could cheer your name, praise your wits, be led by you for another hundred years. But that will all go away with a snap of my fingers when they realize you’re nothing but a fraud.”

Finally, the Grandmaster had the sense to look worried. Loki felt the urge to preen, but instead allowed themself to manifest a horned shadow on the wall behind them.

A touch of dramatic flair never hurt anyone, they reasoned.

“You want your device,” the Grandmaster said.

“I don’t just want the device that was stolen from me. I want the armor of the Hunters you slaughtered. I want this entire planet wiped from existence, but it’s my job to ensure that doesn’t happen. So consider this an act of mercy, Grandmaster. Hand me the TemPad, and you can go the rest of your miserable life reigning over your ants. You don’t want to be exposed for the fraud that you are, do you?”

The man shook his head. “Where has this power been all this time?”

Loki tilted their head. “The human you decided to mess with means everything to me. He helped me realize that my magic could do more than just hurt. I’m not supposed to be here, and my presence alone can tear your entire reality to shreds. So, I took it upon myself to make as little of an impact as possible; but using my magic makes it difficult to do so. Now, I’ll ask you this: what do you value more, subduing me and hoping that the TemPad is all that I say it is? Or do you value your authority, your complete dominance over this planet? Will you throw all that away to risk finding out the God of Mischief was lying to you?”

“You’re bluffing.”

“That’s my job,” Loki responded.

The desperate, considering look in his eyes made Loki grin like the devil. Not even two days on Sakaar and they already wished the worst of Hel’s punishments on this man. He did not grovel or plead, but Loki found that they were above that now. Well, mostly, at least.

“Fine. I’ll give you the TemPad. But how can I trust that you won’t just double-cross me?”

Well, if that wasn’t irony at its finest.

“You’ll just have to trust me,” they said, but rolled their eyes when the Grandmaster’s narrowed in suspicion. “Gods, it’s also my job to ensure that no major beings who are important to your reality are usurped. You included.”

“So you won’t kill me?”

Loki sighed, forcing themself not to roll their eyes a third time. “If you don’t comply, I won’t have to kill you. Your subjects can take care of that for me.”

That seemed to silence the man. Loki lifted their chin. “So, where is my TemPad?”

The Grandmaster opened his mouth, but was quickly interrupted by a voice at the doors.

“Right here.” Val appeared in the archway, the broken TemPad held in the air. She looked smug, but all thoughts of betrayal fled from Loki’s mind when they saw Mobius behind her, slightly beaten and bruised but majorly unharmed. Except for the angry red splotch on his neck from where he was electrocuted, Loki couldn’t see any mortal wounds.

“Mobius,” they said, forgetting the Grandmaster and crossing the room in a few strides. They swept the man up in a crushing hug and he chuckled, patting their back but begging to be let go.

“Good to see you again, too, Lokes. I see you’ve been busy?” A pointed look at the Grandmaster, who Val had approached with her sword pointed at his throat.

“Between you and me, I could care less if this timeline reaches redline.”

“Ah, don’t say that. Brunnhilde still lives here.”

“Brunnhilde?”

“Yeah, you know, the Valkyrie? The ‘ally’ you were telling me about?”

Loki paused. “She told me her name was Val, Mobius. Did she tell you differently?”

Mobius had a look on his face that Loki knew meant he was dawning on a realization. “Oh, I see. No, she never told me her name, I just knew from watching your variants’ files. Looks like she wanted her identity to stay a secret.”

Loki hummed as they also came upon this realization. Brunnhilde. Loki had never heard her name mentioned growing up in Asgard; they had thought the Valkyries an extinct race. Evidently, they were proven wrong.

“---And I’ll never sell you another scrap so long as I live. You can kiss your dime store Champion goodbye, Gast.” Val’s voice came from the other side of the room where she had the Grandmaster with his hands in the air, looking like a guilty thief.

“Val,” Loki began but stumbled, clutching Mobius’s shoulder for support. Their head began to swim and they felt nauseous.

“Loki? Are you alright?” Mobius asked, supporting them with a hand on their back.

Loki managed to nod and right themself. “Yes, yes I’m alright. It’s just the tax of using so much magic all at once like that.” Mobius made an ah sound, like he had predicted something like this might happen. “Tell me, was it convincing?”

“Damn near thought I was hallucinating again,” Val chimed. “One second I was about to chop your friend’s head clean off, then the next I saw the two of us battling it out like it was Ragnarok. Oh, and then your freaky clone appeared and nearly gave me a heart attack. Thanks for that, by the way.”

Loki couldn’t tell if she was being sincere with her gratitude or if she was mocking them for their hastily summoned clone. Either way, they didn’t necessarily care so long as Mobius was alright.

“Where did you learn to do all that, Lokes? I’d have thought that with being in the TVA you’d, well, I dunno, not know how to anymore?” Mobius said from behind them, and although it came across as slightly offensive, Loki knew he wasn’t trying to slight them.

“I’m not quite sure where it came from either, but during all those field missions tracking variants of myself, I thought that I’d at least learn a little something from each one, since they’re all slightly different. As for how I’m physically able, well, magic never truly goes away. I believe it waits for me to return into time, and when I do it’s stronger every time. Though, if we don’t pack up soon and return to the TVA, I think we’re going to have more dangerous problems on our hands.”

“I agree,” Val chirped. “Get the hell off this planet and stop creating trouble. I’ve never been more horrified to see another Asgardian, and Norns know they’ll send every battalion in the palace looking for you.”

“Battalions!?” The Grandmaster blurted, his face looking awfully pale. Loki couldn’t seem to feel bad, though.

“Just hand the TemPad over, Val.”

“With pleasure.” She tossed it over to them and Loki caught it with two hands.

“What in the realms…”

“What is it?” Mobius asked, coming up behind them and looking over their elbow, hands on his hips.

“It’s not broken, I just can’t get it to turn on. It’s not supposed to use battery, is it?” Mobius shook his head. “Then how is it normally powered?”

Mobius made a grabby motion and Loki handed it off to him. He examined it for a few moments, turning it over and blowing air in some crevices, but ultimately just pocketed it. Loki made a face and began to protest but was silenced by a finger.

“TemPads don’t usually lose energy very quickly. They’re designed to last long periods of time outside the TVA, but this one’s just plain outta juice. Almost as if it’s been drained of it. Tampered with. Care to explain, Grandmaster?”

The two of them turned to the Grandmaster and Val, who had the tip of her sword hovering in front of his throat, picking at the nails on her free hand.

“Err, well, that depends on what you mean by tampered, eh-heh.”

One dagger flung dangerously close to his head had him talking.

“Well–well, yes! Yes, I tampered with it! I sent it to my mechanics but nobody had any idea how to turn it on! But then one of my weapons engineers thought it would be a great idea to hook it up to an engine and see how it would run—”

“I’m sorry, did you say you hooked it up to a spacecraft’s engine?” Loki asked incredulously. The Grandmaster smiled sheepishly, and Loki leaned heavier on Mobius just to keep upright.

“But hey! It didn’t work, so, well, I thought I’d keep it around for you to fix! You can fix it…right?”

This time they all looked at Mobius. His face turned a shade of pink and Loki began to feel even woozier.

“You mean you don’t know how to fix your only way home!?” Val called, voicing Loki’s unspoken opinion aloud.

“Mobius, dear,” they whispered. “Please do not tell me that we went through all this trouble just for us to fail here.”

“Well, it can’t be that difficult!” Mobius tossed his free arm in the air then planted it on his hip.

“Then how do you charge them in the TVA?”

“I…well I don’t know!”

“Mobius, how do you not know? Haven’t you been there for, I don’t know, all eternity?”

“I’m an analyst, Loki! I haven’t been in the field for literal ages!”

“Ladies! Let’s get back on track here, we’re trying to get your sorry asses back to your…TVA? Never heard of it, but if I have to suffer around you for any longer I think I’ll actually kill this guy.” Val punctuated by actually dragging the edge of her sword against the Grandmaster’s throat.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea to me,” the man said, voice quivering.

“Right, you’re right. I remember B-15 saying something about resetting the TemPads once, and she gave Casey and I a whole detailed instruction manual on how to do it right. And I think…” Mobius trailed off, taking the TemPad out of his pocket and setting it down on a tall, round glass table. He flipped open the top part to reveal a blank, black screen, not even the little grooves glowed orange.

Loki felt another sudden wave of exhaustion but stayed on their feet. They really did need to figure this out quickly; there wasn’t a chance that they could hold their illusion for very much longer, let alone keep coming up with twists and turns to excite the crowd.

“Right, here we go. If the TemPad runs on energy—which I’m almost certain they do—in theory, all we’d need is a jumpstart to get it enough power to turn on. Then we can get the hell out of here. Loki, do you think your magic will work?”

Loki blinked at him, then at the TemPad. “I, well, perhaps in theory, as you put it, I could, but right now I’m focusing all my efforts on the illusion. I’d rather not have an angry mob at our doorstep to go along with the mounting stress.”

“Right, got it. What else can we use?”

“Well, there’s a garage full of spaceships and carriers on the far side of the palace,” Val offered.

Mobius shook his head. “If a space engine zapped all the juice outta this thing, I don’t think it'd be a good idea to overload it with the full force of one.”

“Well then, any other ideas? Gast, how about you?”

The Grandmaster just held up his hands again, shrugging his shoulders like an imp. “Didn’t work the first time, won’t work this time.”

“Don’t be such a Debbie Downer,” Mobius mumbled, patting himself down just in case he magically had a battery pack in his back pocket.

“Would the stun chip work?” Val asked, gesturing to the chip still clinging to Mobius’s neck like a parasite.

Loki sighed for about the millionth time that day. Apparently, they did just have a magical solution.

“Yes, I think that would do the trick,” Loki replied weakly. It was now an active struggle not to grit their teeth with the force of their efforts.

“Good; how are we going to get it off?”

Loki looked around the room for the remote they batted out of the Grandmaster’s hand. It laid on the ground a few yards away, and Loki pointed it out to Mobius. The agent placed the TemPad on the glass table and went over to grab the remote.

“There should be a button on it—no, not that one, yes the other one—now press it gently; there you go.” The chip on his neck hissed gently and popped off into his had. Mobius winced but held it up to the light with two fingers.

“Powerful for its size,” he remarked. “Your engineers create this, too?”

The Grandmaster shook his head. “Some old alien tech we revamped. It’s harmless, really.”

They all looked at him with unamused glares.

“Right. Well, hook it up to the TemPad and let’s get going,” urged Loki.

“I know, I know,” Mobius replied, heading back for the TemPad with the chip still held between his fingers like a gemstone. He examined it for a quick minute, turning it over and scrutinizing all its little details. “I don’t wanna fry the motherboard on this thing by turning the chip on to its full extent.”

“Tricky work, huh?”

Val shut the Grandmaster up with another threatening movement of her blade.

Turning back to their work, Loki mused, “Perhaps if we take apart the D-pad we could automatically wire the insides of it to summon a Timedoor? As long as we don’t use so much power that we ‘fry the motherboard’ as you put, it should work?”

Mobius hummed with his hands on his hips, and Loki was momentarily distracted by his silver hair and thoughtful face that they didn’t really hear his response.

“Loki?”

They blinked. “Yes, good idea.”

“It was your idea, love. But thanks anyway. Can you control the remote while I set the chip in place?”

They agreed, slightly embarrassed, taking the remote and watching as Mobius carefully popped open the top of the PCB's casing, guiding wires away from the actual heart of the machine. He took away the D-pad and maneuvered the typing screen out of the way, too. Finally he took one red wire and attached it to one of the spiked arms of the chip, wrapping the copper around it thrice.

“This should do the trick, hopefully. I never said I was a tech bro. Ready, Lokes?”

Loki nodded. They pressed the center button of the remote and the chip began to spark, sending electricity through the other three prongs, but the one attached to the TemPad began to glow.

“Holy—I think it’s actually working!” Mobius exclaimed, jostling Loki’s shoulder. It was true though; the TemPad’s screen began to fizz and crackle, and a glitchy version of Miss Minutes cartwheeled onto the small screen.

“Well, howdy folks! W-wha-what kind of predicament do-do-do we have here?” The tiny orange clock chirped. Mobius ignored her, instead going straight to the logs and punching in the coordinates to the TVA.

“So that’s it?” The Grandmaster chimed. “Just some, some music box? How’re you gonna get—”

Then suddenly a Timedoor appeared in front of his face and a woman stepped out, clad in Hunter gear from head to toe.

“Mobius, you better have a real good reason for being gone this long.”

B-15 stood with a pruning stick and a majorly unamused expression. But Mobius was all too happy to see her.

“B! Boy, am I glad to see you. C’mon, Loki, let's get outta here.”

“Now hold on a minute, what took you so long to transmit a signal? We assigned you two idiots to this case because you promised you’d wrap it up quickly.”

“The reason we’re so late is because we were kidnapped, B-15. By the man standing right behind you, if you want to point fingers so badly,” Loki snapped, surprised that they even had any energy left to do so.

B-15 turned, looked to the Grandmaster then to the illusion outside, then to Val with her sword. “I don’t even wanna know. But this is the guy who, uh, kidnapped you two?” Mobius and Loki voiced their opinions on the logistics of who exactly did what, but B-15 just waved them off and cuffed the Grandmaster.

“Now wait a second! What do you think you’re doing!? You can’t treat me like this, we had a deal!” He thrashed, but B-15 whipped out a time collar and froze him in his place.

“We’ll have to reset this one, unfortunately,” she said, giving Loki a sad glance.

“No, come now, there’s no need,” Loki protested. “I did this so that we wouldn’t have to reset it.”

Val looked very confused from where she had given over watch of the Grandmaster. She held her sword tightly, giving B-15 and the Timedoor a wary glare. “What do you mean by reset?”

Loki looked to Mobius, who looked to B-15.

“On behalf of the Time Variance Authority, I must return this timeline to its original state. We’re way too close to a redline, Loki. You don’t have to understand, just have to accept it.”

“What’s going to happen to me?” Val asked. Loki recognized her tone intimately. She was scared but didn’t want anybody to know it.

“We’re not resetting this timeline, and that’s final.” Loki let go of Mobius’s arm and stalked over to the woman. “It’s the TVA’s fault for even causing the redline in the first place. We’d be hypocrites to reset them after they’ve done nothing wrong. If anything, you should reset me.”

“Loki, come now,” Mobius began, but Loki cut him off.

“Val saved Mobius’s life today. Well, after trying to kill him, but she saved him nonetheless. Mobius is one of your finest agents, and he’s working on a case that could quite literally define the future of the TVA. I think it’s imperative that we give Val and everyone else on this planet an apology.”

B-15 looked upset at first, then contemplative. She was obviously deep in thought, but Loki didn’t much care.

“You know what, fine. But on one occasion,” She added when Loki’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “We reset this guy’s memory and put him back where he was before you two entered the mix. Sound good?”

“How can we ensure that he doesn’t just go back to normal?” Mobius asked, but Val stepped forward.

“I can’t pretend to know what any of you are talking about, but mentioning the resetting of my entire existence gives me a damn good reason to wanna help out. So trust me, I can handle the Grandmaster if he starts to get all cuckoo again. Me, and the hundred thousand bloodthirsty people in that Arena.”

Loki smiled, giving Val an appreciative nod. “I guess I can dismantle my illusion now,” they said, slowly taking it apart piece by piece, making sure to have Val appear as the victor and show a very dead Mobius being carried out by two little robot illusions. They had to shout over the cheer of the crowd for the real Mobius to grab his helmet from the floor and get back to the TVA with B-15 to go reset the Grandmaster.

They still had one more thing to do while the timedoor was still open, though.

“Nice party trick, God of Mischief,” Val quipped from beside them, her arms crossed and a smirk on her face.

“I only save the best for last,” they responded. “Say, when we encountered each other in the armory and I discovered your brand, you said that you never wanted to go back to Asgard.”

“That’s true. I’d rather fight an actual Champion on this planet than step foot back on that realm.”

“Well, since I technically just saved your life and entire reality, could I ask a favor of you?”

Val looked at them sidelong, pursing her lips. But she nodded.

“There’s a woman in the palace who deserves a better life. Her name is Seroro, she was—well is—a dancer for the Grandmaster. She helped me at the party, and I think that she’d be happy on Asgard. Or wherever else she wants to be. Could you make that happen?”

“Hmm, well it’s a tall order. Is she hot?”

Loki stifled a snort, but nodded. “She is conventionally attractive, yes. But that shouldn’t determine your answer, you know.” Val laughed and nudged them with her elbow.

“Yes, yes, I know. I’ll find her and help her out. You sure it won’t mess with your whole Time Variance Authority gig?”

Loki told her no, it wouldn’t. They were silent for a few moments, but then another question wriggled its way into their head. A not as fun question.

“Val, what happened after you left with the Grandmaster at the party?”

She looked up at them, brows knitted, but then slowly relaxed. “Whatever you put in that drink made him, uh, very talkative. It might’ve been a brain stimulant or something, but either way he was just talking to himself more than to me. I took him up to his rooms to try and snoop around there, but he began to go on a rant about how he knew I was hiding something from him, and that I should become his new Champion because then I wouldn’t be able to leave Sakaar until I die.”

“Oh…” Was all Loki could think to say in the moment.

“Yeah, no, nothing bad happened, Loki. Thankfully. But he did threaten to destroy my ship and kill Aragorn if I didn’t make it look like a good fight.”

“Aragorn?”

“My pegasus. I’m a Valkyrie, Loki, don’t all Asgardians learn about us at a young age?”

Loki huffed a laugh. “I was always convinced you were mere legends. My brother, however, always wished to become a Valkyrie one day. Though he was terribly upset when he learned you were an all-women group. He didn’t like it much when I taunted him by shifting into a female, either,” they laughed again, happy to revisit that memory with another Asgardian.

“That’s nice,” Val said.

After another few moments of silence, watching the people filter out of the Arena with their light sticks glowing bright blue and white, Val spoke up again.

“My real name is Brunnhilde. Just in case you ever go back to Asgard. Or if that’s near your TVA place, I don’t know.”

“Thank you for telling me, Brunnhilde. I’m still Loki, no tricks in that.”

“You’ve been a very interesting person to meet, Loki. Perhaps we will see each other again?”

“Hah, that is unlikely, but I certainly will not forget this any time soon.”

Val’s laugh came deep from her chest and she turned away from the windows. “Well then, neither will I. It was nice to meet the prince of Asgard, though I can’t say I share that same opinion for the rest of your family.”

“Neither can I, I’m afraid.”

Loki turned away too, giving Val one last nod.

“Farewell?”

“Fare like shit. Get outta here already.”

Loki smiled, slipped through the Timedoor, and back home to the TVA.