We all have a purpose...

     It was a feeling that was difficult to explain. He’d probably liken it to being skinned alive, which for the record is not something anyone would wish to experience. He growled through grit teeth, trying his hardest to fight through the pain but at the rate this was going it he likely wouldn’t last long.

     With a pained yell he had started a lunge forward for another blow at the other man but suddenly the pain intensified. He lost his footing and stumbled forward. Dropping to his hands and knees with wide eyes in shock. 

     Blood was trailing down his sleeve and starting to slowly pool on the ground by his hand. He didn’t want to give up or admit the other man was right. But it wasn’t looking good for him at this rate. How was he supposed to fight this? He’d never seen or experienced anything like it. His finger nails scrapped at the ground and he started to shake, everything wanted to give out. 

      “Alright I yield!” Loki hissed through clenched teeth. The God’s voice was strained due to the stress on his body. “I yield….”

     As much as Loki thought he’d be willing to die to set things right, Alveus knew enough about the man thanks to Fandral, to indicate he was fooling himself with that thought. He’d break. He usually did in some manner. The God wasn’t nearly as strong willed as he thought he was, deep down in his core he was still a selfish coward.

     It was as if on queue, that Loki dropped to his knees and gave up. He didn’t want to die, it was so obvious. The God didn’t know enough to stand a chance against Alveus’ abilities, perhaps next time he’d be more prepared. Perhaps he’d accepted this encounter as is and gave up entirely, that part was hard to say. He was still a very stubborn God.

     Easing the extension of parasites, Alveus drew them back with a smirk. Letting the other man stew in his defeat, he straightened himself out, brushing more of the dirt off of himself.

     “Just so we’re both clear. I am keeping this host for as long as possible, I suggest you learn to deal with it.” 

     I had him where he wanted, down on the ground and out of options. Or so he thought. There was no way for him to predict what was flying at him next. What ever that cloud was that the impostor threw at him, it was safe to say he was not a fan.

     The parasites latched onto what ever they could chewing through sections of the God’s attire, and in the few places of exposed skin that were hit blood was drawn, quickly. It felt like a thousand pins being pushed into his skin at once.

     Loki recoiled with a hiss and immediately tried to brush it all off. His jaw tightened and he glared at the other man. If he couldn’t get rid of it, he would just have to fight through it. Loki was determined to take this man down one way or another.

     Having not pushed his parasites to their fullest potential, they chewed away at the God so very slowly compared to how he normally would attack. He was playing with the prince, holding himself back. He smirked at Loki’s reaction and the way he physically recoiled from the scene. Though by the time Loki looked like he was willing to push through, Hive had managed to get himself mostly up off the ground.

     “I do not wish to kill you, Loki. But I will if I must. Perhaps if I do, I’ll do a trade,” He grinned, brushing some dirt off of himself as he got to his feet, ”I could let this corpse rot while I hitch a ride within you.” 

     Taking note of how angry the God was, he could understand where he was coming from. Did he care? Not particularly, or he would not have been in this current situation, but he understood it.

          “I think I would make a better ‘God of Mischief’ than you anyway.” 

     Alveus’ lip curled and he reached a hand out to better control the parasites he’d sent at the God. Twisting his wrist ever so slightly and then tightening his hand into a fist he dig those parasites deeper into Loki.

     Green eyes shifted, studying what he saw before him. He had seen a lot of odd things in his life time but this was definitely a first. It was the way the wound shifted as it healed that was unsettling. It was as if something inside of him was alive and shifting within his body.

          “What the Hel are you…?” Loki’s lip curled in disgust.

     He took a brief moment to look down at his hand on his side. He was definitely bleeding where the knife dug in but he was fairly certain it wasn’t anything life threatening at this point.

     It was hard to look at the man, seeing that darkness behind otherwise familiar eyes. Everything Loki knew pointed to this physically being Fandral, but everything else was so very very wrong. It didn’t make sense.

     After a pause for thought and a borderline growl from the prince of Asgard, he decided to just full on lunge at the man in anger. It was a sprint and tackle method, completely physical which was unlike the Trickster god whom preferred magic, weapons and range. Perhaps this in itself would through him off. This was of course going off the knowledge that he did know as much about him as he had originally lead on.

     He let out a yell of frustration as he slammed his shoulder into the man, forcing him back and into a near by wall. He hit him with as much force as he could muster, which in terms of enhanced strength versus Midgardian architecture meant he was driving that man straight through that building wall. He didn’t care.

     In the shock of the moment before the impostor had time to properly react, he’d grabbed him by the front of his shirt and thrown him to the ground wasting little to no time to bring a boot crashing into his stomach.

     It was pretty safe to say he hadn’t expected the tackle manouver. Though he should have, considering Loki was often highly unpredictable when he had time to think a scenario through, which was his own mistake. He should not have given the God the chance to analyze the situation.

     There was just enough power in that hit to crack and push through the building wall, leaving the two of them in a pile of rubble inside of it. Anyone in the vicinity or the building scrambled out of the way in a panic. In the daze of the force he didn’t have a lot of room to react before he was completely winded.

     Impressive, he’d give him that much, but it would take more than that to beat this inhuman.

     Moving as quickly as he could in order to stop what he assumed would be a second blow by that Asgardian boot, He reached out in Loki’s direction and sent a flow of parasites in his direction. He didn’t want to kill the God, but he did want him to back down. 

     So much for getting this over with.

     That cackle was alarmingly unsettling coming out of he man Loki always knew as undoubtedly friendly. If he were being honest he didn’t think that sort of sound was even possible to be produced from him. It was almost more disturbing than the fact that he seemed completely unphased by the spear through his chest.

     Completely forgetting about the dagger in that moment Loki was unable to move in time to dodge the blade being sunk into his side. To which the God hissed and recoiled, pulling the spear free from the other man and stepping back to grip the blade and remove it himself. He stared in a brief moment of disbelief at his blood that dripped from his own blade.

     He couldn’t tell if he’d just gotten lucky that it didn’t seem like anything vital had been damaged, or if the other man was starting to play with him in a different way. Either way, he definitely realized this was going to be much more complicated than he originally thought it would be.

     “You should be dead…” Green eyes narrowed at the blonde man trying to recalculate his plan of attack in that moment.

     Alveus looked down at his chest still chuckling as he made sure he was facing the God as he put his hands on his chest and pulled the layers of fabric put of the way to give him a good view of the wound. There was zero blood. He glanced up with a smirk as the wound started to close in a bizarre fashion, of what looked like a very fast moving swarm working to repair the flesh in question.

     Loki’s lip, currently curled into a snarl twitched as the man essentially taunted him with his own blade. He needed to know how this was all possible. Had he been watching them the whole time? Or was there something else at play?

     If this was the result of being in too close proximity to that mind stone again Loki was about ready to pack his shit up and take it to the other side of the universe. Fuck everyone else, the mental abuse wasn’t worth it. He could start over completely fresh somewhere else…

     It was in his frustration that he manipulated some of his magic to produce a familiar staff. The long bladed end now being pointed towards the imposter.

     "Just because you know what he knew, doesn’t mean you know everything about me. I am a terribly private individual. You may know basic living habits and small personality quirks, but you likely have no comprehension of the realm of magic and what you can do with it over hundreds of years of practice.” Loki suddenly smirked having already sent a duplicate around the other side of the man. Upon pointing in their direction Loki had sent himself through to the image of himself on the other side, leaving a duplicate in his wake.

     The staff shaft was quickly pushed forward, striking the other man in the back of the head and immediately full force shoved the tip of the spear end into the man’s back, piercing him clean through.

     He wasn’t able to move quick enough to dodge the blow to the back of the head. It certainly caught him off guard and he’d stumbled a bit with a small grunt but he wasn’t worried. In fact as he was pulled back and that spear shredded through his chest, he simply looked down at it, pondering, ‘should he let him think he beat him?’

     Instead he let out a laugh. The sort of laugh that quickly became a twisted hysterical cackle which was especially concerning considering the image of the man he held in his possession.

     Loki’s jaw tightened as the other man openly started to mock him. A blade slid and appeared and appeared in his hand at the ready as that rage started to boil. His face started to twitch into a snarl.

     Though the impostor wasn’t entirely wrong. He had let his guard down, he wanted Fandral back so desperately he let it blind himself to logic and reason. Because he loved Fandral was why he should have figured this out sooner, not the other way around. 

     “What the Hel do you know about love?” The God growled.           “Don’t for one second think you know me…”

     In that moment, Loki didn’t wait for a proper response before he’d made a quick step to throw a dagger directly at the other man.

     “Oh I’ve witnessed and tampered with it enough to know it makes people weak--” He saw the movement Loki had prepared before he’d even tossed the blade. He knew it was coming, there was only so much time Loki could hold back his temper.

     In a single swift movement He was able to lean out of the way and grab the blade out of the air.

      “-- and sloppy.” Those blue eyes only left the God to examine the blade in his hand.

     “See, you are very wrong. I know you alarmingly well.” He grinned turning his attention back to Loki, briefly pointing that blade back at him, “I know exactly how you fight, how you think, how you like your damn bed sheets washed.”

     That blade was tilted and tapped against his own temple.

     Teeth clenched and his nostrils flared a little as he breathed out to keep himself as calm as he could. This was far from easy on the God. 

     “Cut the shit,” he huffed doing his best to brush off the memories being brought back.           “You and I both know you’re not him, so how about you drop the act and explain.”

     Using another’s visage was something Loki was all too familiar with, so that part he had no problems believing. But what he couldn’t get, was how accurate this man could get with obscure memories and events. How could he possibly know these things?

               “Who are you?”

     There was a pause as Loki responded, blue eyes scanned over the God. The gig was up, that much was obvious, he definitely knew. A smug grin started to spread across his face as he let a snicker escape.

     “You know the saying, love is blind?” He raised an eyebrow, “You never truly realize just how true that statement is, until you fall under it and experience it for yourself.”

     He tilted his head slightly to the side and mimicked Loki’s own stance, placing his hands behind his back.

     Once the Android broke the news, with the odd and disturbing information he had learned upon encountering ‘Fandral’, Loki had been silently stewing on the information. He had suspected something was up but was truly hoping that gut feeling of unease was wrong. Unfortunately the Android only confirmed the God’s fears.

               His Fandral was dead.                     He had been for a while.

     Whom ever or what ever this new man was, was the new problem to tackle. How did he know so much about their life? Where did he come from? Why target Fandral? Was he connected to someone else or alone? There were too many questions.

     Loki’s anger however was beginning to fester into something ugly. He wasn’t entirely sure how tactical and strategic of an approach he would be able to maintain if he chose to confront this impostor. But he also couldn’t just let him continue running around, giving him a possibility to soil Fandral’s good name at any moment.

     It took some time to locate the other man, but once he did Loki made sure to silently observe for a short time before finally approaching. As angry as he was he managed to keep a lid on himself as he stepped forward, flanking the other man keeping his hands clasped behind his own back.His steps cautious enough to be ready for anything at this point.

          “So who are you really?”

     Ever since the encounter with the Android, Alveus had laid extremely low. He figured his cover had been blown, but as it turned out next to no one even noticed. Perhaps the other hadn’t actually shared what he’d learned, or perhaps he had just gotten lucky with not being found. But one thing was for sure, he was in significantly better shape now than he had been.

     So, when he heard that familiar voice behind him he knew, what ever happened he’d be able to hold his own. And in this particular case he had a significant advantage.

     There was a small smirk as he listened to Loki’s footsteps, but it disappeared and was was quickly replaced by a concerned and slightly puzzled look as he turned around to face the raven haired God.

     Perhaps for the first time, there is a clear, distinct concern draped over Vision’s expression, though below it lies a blanket of confusion thick enough that one might be able to cut through it physically. It does not make sense. He does not understand. This Asgardian, this being, is not right. Hypocritical as such a harsh judgement may seem coming from something like himself - unnatural in every sense of the word - the one in front of him exists on an entirely different level of impossibility; organic life, walking and talking, yet simultaneously dying, decaying, in front of his very eyes.

     Tentatively the synthezoid raises a hand, intending to reach out towards Fandral albeit uncertain what exactly direct contact would accomplish. No matter - the scarlet appendage  ultimately remains hanging uncertainly midair, the other once more quick to shrug off Vision’s perplexed inquiries and moving to brush past him without further ado. And he does not catch the glint in the man’s eye, nor the added sharpness of his tongue as he speaks back shortly, dismissively. Glowing optics follow Fandral’s movements as he graces the synthezoid’s side and disappears outside his peripheral for just a moment before Vision begins to turn accordingly–

     Only to freeze in place, a ghostly intrusion brushing over his insides and instilling a shivering sensation that is, at once, wholly unwelcome.

                                                               “What is this...?”

     His head twists the rest of the way, widened eyes flicking up and cast back to catch those of the supposedly undead-Asgardian, staring right back at him with equal puzzlement. For a second that seems to last much longer than the synthezoid understands a second should last, their shared, silent yet piercing confusion is all there is.

                    Then the feeling is gone, and Vision’s gaze narrows down upon the other.

                                                                    “Fandral.”

     The other was definitely aware something was not right, it was very evident in his reaction. Alveus had found himself in a situation he really didn’t want to be in. Of all the times he could have been cornered like this, why did it have to be when he was in such rough shape. 

     His concern turned to frustration fairly quickly, his lip curled and his gaze darkened. He should have expected this, been more prepared. He didn’t know much about the other, but what he did know is he did not have enough information on him to be able to gauge how long he’d last if he did have to fight. Though there was the option to evacuate his host if necessary.

     Was there any point to the act any more? Perhaps self preservation was more important in the moment. 

          He was just so hungry...

     "As interesting as I suspect the following conversation to be, I really don’t have the time my friend. Might I suggest we reschedule--?”

He looks different than the last time they’d met. Or, perhaps Vision simply hadn’t looked closely enough, then. There’s a paleness to the Asgardian’s skin that strikes him as… unhealthy, almost sickly, fading colours and darkness hanging heavy under the eyes when he meets them with his own for just a second, before looking deeper and looking through that concerning frame with a scan more invasive than the synthezoid typically deems necessary - but he’d come with questions, and was intent to discover the answers.

“I had hoped to speak with you, on behest of a friend, but… ” his brow creases further, his body tensing. There is perplexity, a failure to immediately understand the findings of his study, for indeed they make very little sense; As he sees into the very structure of Fandral’s being, he sees a man who by all means should not be standing in front of him right this moment, speaking, breathing, living. He sees a failing biological machine, flesh at the brink of decay and a gaping wound that does not bleed.

                                  He sees a corpse, and he is, quite frankly, disturbed.

                            There is a pause, a loss of words, before he shifts and speaks again.

“Scans are indicating several of your internal organs are currently non-functioning, which I believe is alarming enough to take precedence. I should thus like to repeat my query;

                                                        Are you quite well?”

     The way the other stared at him was a little bit concerning, it was a little too concentrated for Alveus’ own comfort. It was like he was looking through him and he shifted taking a step back. Eye narrowed as he looked him over. Sure enough the words that followed confirmed the inhuman’s fears. He was looking through him.

     “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” There was a curl to his lip as he looked around at anyone passing by who may have potentially heard the exchange. “I am quite fine, just a little hungry.” The usually more friendly blue eye’s moved back to the other, taking on a more threatening glance hoping the other would take the hint to stop talking. This whole ordeal was a little too public for his liking. He didn’t want this to escalate but he had to be ready for it just in case. 

     “I was in the process of figuring out where to find my next meal, actually. So, if you’ll excuse me...” His stance shifted so he could move past the Android. In the process he made a point to lightly brush up against him. In doing so a small dusting of parasites made their way up the Android’s arm towards his head in search of a way in. Perhaps he could block the memory, or at least influence him to leave him be.

     In that moment came the first problem with this plan, there was less of a clear way in. He didn’t really have ears like everyone else... Nose it was then. But even then, a new problem arose. He wasn’t exactly flesh like Alveus was used to, he sort of was but wasn’t at the same time. He didn’t understand what he was venturing into by any means. There was nothing familiar for him to latch onto.

             A young woman, shoulders slumped and head turned down, eyes fixed upon the mobile device in her hands whilst she breaks away from the rest and steps out onto the road, too engaged with her own doings to pay notice to the world around her. She stands in the open, yet it isn’t to her the onlooking synthezoid is drawn - rather, it is the other one, the man that bursts out behind her, to pull her back out of harm’s way as a car sweeps past in all haste and disappears around a corner as quickly as it’d come. A tragedy, just barely avoided, and even Vision from his remote position finds his tense muscles easing in some relief.

             But he must not lose sight of his objective.

             His back promptly straightens, his narrowed eyes opening as he remains still, watching for a moment longer from a distance as the two retreats to safety and proceeds into a social exchange that ultimately sees them part ways, the woman scurrying off and her savoir lingering behind by his lonesome on a now nearly bare sidewalk. It is all well by him; The man’s face finds a match within Vision’s internal databanks, and once successfully identified, recognised as the one he’d sought, all that remains is to make his approach, and by the synthezoid’s experience this was easier done with crowds dispersed.

               “Fandral,” a few stragglers throw nervous glances at the scarlet android as he gently descends. They pick up their pace to move past and away, but he pays them no mind (it is expected, at this point). Instead his eyes lay entirely on the Asgardian while he soundlessly lands upon the concrete only shortly behind ands steps towards him– only to stop abruptly upon gaining a better view, and furrow his brow at the sight he is presented.

                                                                                       “–are you quite well?”

     He was mid scanning the remaining crowds when he heard his host’s name. Not something he wanted to hear at the current moment.

     ‘Shit,’           was the immediate thought that crossed his mind. He glanced upwards to where the sound had come from, eye’s following the figure as it descended to land in front of him. He really hated that he had next to zero information on this being beyond what the two had very briefly exchanged.

     “Aye, I’m fine...” was the immediate response, but in actuality he was far from it. He likely looked exhausted due to going longer than normal between allowing himself to feed properly. He was so hungry and this little meet up was likely only going to irritate him further. He needed to feed more regularly in this host than he normally would in order to keep up with the specific needs required to keep it looking well enough. The nature of the wound in which Fandral had passed from was one of the trickiest he’d dealt with. He was fairly certain the poison was still in the body and mainly responsible for the amount of work it took him to get him looking presentable on a regular basis. Normally the trouble wouldn’t be worth it, but being able to claim an Asgardian was a feat he wasn’t about to let go if he could help it.

   One man amongst millions; he believes this is what the humans would refer to as “finding a needle in a haystack”, and indeed, the synthezoid had not thought this endeavour of his would come entirely without challenge. However, just as the metaphorical problem could plausibly be more easily managed with the proper tools (say, a decent magnet) his hands aren’t empty and his leads not dead ends - he knows what to look for and has a good idea of where to go.

   He wanders along the edges of the rooftops, deigning to search within the general vicinity of their previous (chance) encounter, mechanical eyes peering far below and scanning over the tiny figures making their way along the lit up streets. The crowds here are lesser than they may be elsewhere but every inch of the city is still populous, and humans exhibit a clear preference for moving in groups. Singling them out from one another is a task that requires patience, even for one such as he, but every few moments someone will break the pattern, make their own effort to separate - and, when they do, it is to them the synthezoid’s attention falls.

    Asgardians and needles both posses some rather pointed characteristics, after all.

     As the girl in question decided to look down at her phone and neglect her surroundings, as brief as it was, her mistake was doing so as she chose to cross a road. Mistakes happen in a flash and Alveus saw the vehicle come around the corner near by, the timing could not have been more perfect. It was as if life was handing him his target on a platter. In a swift movement he dashed forward towards the girl and reached out to grab her arm to pull her from the path of the oncoming vehicle. In the process her phone landed on the street in front of them.

     “Whoa there,” He added as the vehicle zipped past them, proceeding to crush the phone.

     The girl seized up in the moment and let out a small yelp as she immediately recognized her mistake. The car, the sudden grab and pull. It was a lot at once for her to process. She blinked with wide eyes at the man whom saved her life.

     “Perhaps your timing with your device was poorly chosen, are you alright?” He questioned with a smile. She nodded and quickly moved to gather her shattered phone with a series of curses. Clearly what ever she was doing with the phone had been important. She took off soon after gathering the broken tech.

     There was a look of annoyance the briefly crossed the inhuman’s face as she took off. So much for a moment to connect to make his life easier. He didn’t even get a thank you. With an added sigh he turned and his eyes followed the direction she moved. Well, time for attempt number two, if this failed he’d need to move on and pick someone new. He tucked his hands in his pockets and moved on after her.

     “Excuse me, miss. Apologies, but if your contact is important, may I briefly offer my phone so may let whom ever that was know what has happened?” He presented Fandral’s own device to the woman, in hopes she’d take him up on his offer. To which she politely declined and left him standing there on the sidewalk alone.

     Loki’s lip curled a little. Was this a difficult decision to make? Yes. But he was pretty confident at this point that something was off with the other man, whether it was him or not. If it was him, he was likely being controlled. And if it wasn’t, well they made a fairly convincing double for quite some time but the gig was up, Loki wasn’t buying it anymore.

     “You shouldn’t have to need proof. That’s the problem here.” Loki huffed in annoyance.

     He then raised his free hand, a dagger appearing in it and pointed it at what was visibly left of the wound on Fandral’s chest. The wound that had killed him.

    “This. This should have been gone ages ago. How are you standing here while this hardly looks like it’s properly healed? It’s been months!”

     “If I knew how any of this happened I would have shared by now.” Alveus let out a strained sigh.

     He knew he needed to get control back in this situation, but it didn’t seem like words were going to get him out of this one. Loki was too stubborn for that. When that man is confident in his knowledge he’s borderline impossible to budge.

     “I don’t know any more than you do.” His fingers gripped at Loki’s to loosen his hold on him. It only helped ever so slightly.

     The inhuman had an idea out of this, but he needed to get even closer. What he was going to do could not be seen or it would likely solidify his loss with Loki. Maybe, just maybe he could some how manage another kiss in there some how. Confuse the God a bit, and get himself out of this mess. 

     “Loki... Stop this--” He let go of Loki’s hand and quickly reached out to grip the fabric of Loki’s open shirt and pulled him closer. “someone is pitting you against me, please... Remember me--”