#magicmischiefandlies

Avengers Assemble RP Awards

The crunch of gravel under determind strides, the creek of hinges under a slightly too forceful shove that left the wood of the door hanging from them or the shattering of fragile tokens that she cared little for the outcome of were all sounds that were like music to the ears of the Enchantress. They meant that she was initiating something that would quell the irriation that occasionally sprouted forward in her thoughts, the irritation of not knowing something that was previously all too easy to acquire: the plans of the God of Mischief himself. It had been an easy decision, ignoring the formalities of waiting to be invited into someone's home and simply letting herself in.

The sorceress' reasons for not being as active in her pursuit of causing chaos over the past few weeks were her own, though she was not feeling as generous as allowing the Jotun the same privlidge she allowed herself. It didn't take her long to search the entirity of the dwellings, about to exit the last room (his chambers) with the admittance that perhaps the Jotun was more careful that she had originally given him credit for when a glint of gold caught her attention. A carefully calculated turn on her heels was executed, eyes connecting with the sceptre she had seen him carry on more than one occasion, blonde head tilted to the side as she briefly observed it before taking it into her grasp for a better inspection as she leaned against the wall.

"Loki."

Bruce tensed slightly, watching the Asgardian from where he stood in the shadows of the alleyway. He saw the older man turn, and he instinctively stepped away, further into the darkness. Still, his voice was firm, albeit quiet as he spoke again.

He stood on the ledge of the Empire State Building, and stared down at the street below. It was dark, and it was getting cold, and nearly everyone had left the observation deck where Bruce found himself situated, but he didn't care. He barely noticed that he was hungry, and that he'd spent the whole day staring down at the same streets and buildings... that same horizon, that was now going a hazy blue-black as the stars gathered above. He was too consumed in thought, too exhausted and too sad to pay attention to much of anything.

He would have ignored the man standing just at the corner of his vision entirely, if it hadn't been for the prickling sensation that crept up his spine, setting every hair on the back of his neck to standing at a near-millitant attention. Wordlessly, Bruce shifted his weight, moving slightly aside to provide a space for the man on the railing beside him. Suddenly, the whole world felt too silent and still. Suddenly, he was feeling very much alone. And angry.

Bruce waited until Loki was leaning against the railing, before he spoke, his voice low, and oddly toneless.

Amora couldn't help but deem this a bad idea, though she couldn't help it. She was curious. The sorceress decided she would allow him the chance to explain, though it would be difficult to refrain, it was the least she could do. Wasn't it? She had already defied orders in conversing with a handful of villains, as such, what was one more? Even if she was currently wary of him.

The Enchantress had to try, with anger management issues that potentially rivaled that of the Hulk when riled enough, if she wanted to convince the Midgardians that she was indeed worthy to be deemed a protector, she had to try. The floor boards groaned with each carefully calculated step she took, a gaze of a similar nature scanning the area with an acute eye.

She heard the God of Mischief's entrance before she turned to face him, her telepathy having been grazing the surrounding area for any sign of company. Explain. The telepathic message passed through his guard, having hurled it at him with enough force to do so, afraid if she allowed words to part pink lips that she wouldn't be able to stop the barrage of blame that was ready to be fired at him. His fault. Maximus had said that. She know had action on behalf of Loki to attest to the Inhuman's words.

He was hunting again, stalking through the darkest parts of the city for signs of his prey. With Jack gone, the edge of desperation was gone, but there were still amends to be made, mistakes to be corrected. If he was going to wrest his life back from Maximus and get out from under S.H.I.E.L.D's cross-hairs, he needed to set things right again. Too many of his actions were impossible to undo, too many deaths on his conscience, too many fractured memories that haunted him. There were things he'd done that were unforgivable, but this at least was something he could set right.

Bring in Loki, or at least remove him from the game. No one else dies because of his mistakes.

Venom looked for trouble, more than usual in an area. Fights and bad luck and accidents. Following the trail of tricks and chaos to its source. The Asgardian had been laying low and hadn't struck back at the city, but he wasn't impossible to find. He was a diva, that's for sure, and even on the run, he seemed to delight in causing trouble. After weeks of living close to the streets and hunting for dangerous game, picking up the trail was almost easy.

It was the eve of Amora’s nineteenth birthday, surprised by Loki having found her hiding place in the castle and insisting that she wear a blindfold so that he could lead her to her present without it being spoiled. The blonde was wary though seeing the excitement, and slight nervousness, in her friend’s eyes, she had agreed. 

One hand clutched in his while the other blindly grasped at thin air to make sure that he wasn’t leading her into a wall or had some trick up his sleeve (she wouldn’t put it past him) as the blindfold obscured her vision. “Loki, where are we going?” the question accompanied by a small laugh, shaking her head lightly at his reassurances that she was fine and that they were almost there. Blonde brow crinkled as she felt gust of fresh air against the exposed part of her face. Why were they outside? Confusion furthered when the smell of hay invaded her nostrils. The stables? "Mischief, what’s go-" her words cut short when she felt his hot breath on her ear with the whisper of "Take off the blindfold."

This was wrong.

The words twisted in his gut, over and over as he made his way carefully down white hallways and security checkpoints. He didn't have any illusions about being a good person anymore, desperation had pushed him far beyond any chance of redemption. He was a murderer, a criminal and unrepentant. Whatever it took to keep those he cared for safe, whatever he had to give up to stop Jack, whatever it cost to keep the symbiote. How quickly all his morals and heroic dreams had crumbled as soon as things got rough. What kind of man did that make him now?

He'd sworn loyalty to Max and the Inhuman had given him the ability not just to survive and evade his pursuers, but to hunt down those who threatened him in return for being his obedient hound. He had broken the law, caused pain and killed on Max's orders, each act chipping away at his sanity. He owed Maximus and was grateful, but the man had the power to strip the symbiote from him and Flash hated him for the ever present threat. Conflicting loyalties. He needed Max's help too badly to betray him but the obedience was reluctant, especially this. He would follow these orders, but...this was wrong. Death on a potentially genocidal scale, he couldn't just let this happen.

Flash fidgeted awkwardly in his borrowed form, being back in the halls of S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ was nerve wracking. This would be the last place he'd come had he any choice at all in the matter. Too dangerous to go directly into the heart of his enemy, especially when they were smart and had more than enough manpower to take him down. He had to stay in character, get to his target and get out before anyone noticed. Hopefully Nichols would recover from the blow on the head and being tied up in his apartment until someone came to his rescue. The rookie agent was the perfect cover, the stolen IDs and clearances valid, but known for his mistakes and forgetfulness. Any slip-ups in Flash's performance would be attributed to just Nichols being careless, clumsy Nichols.

He nervously shuffled the files in his arms, earning an eye-roll and an indulgent smile from one of the guards in the cell block. "H-have to get some info for Agent Wiley." he stammered and the guard's grin grew.

"Yeah, okay. Don't let her ream you out for any screw ups, kid."

"Ha..yeah. Thanks." He hurried passed, the cell block sparking faint feelings of claustrophobia and panic. Geez, Thompson. Don't lose it just because of some bad memories. He kept his eyes locked forward, not looking at the familiar prisons, trying his best to just focus on his mission. Get in, get the target, get out. Counting down the cell numbers he stopped, regarding the man inside, the Asgardian who had tried to destroy his entire city and everyone in it.