Interlude
Failure. You're nothing but a failure and this entire plan will destroy itself before you've even started.
Shut up.
Too much. There's too many variables. The Potter man.
Stark.
Potter.
"Sir, they've set up the machine on top of Stark Tower."
Loki lifted his head slowly to stare at the pilot of the jet, taking a moment to comprehend what he had just been told. Before he could answer, he winced and a flash of what Selvig was doing came through his mind. He gripped the scepter tighter and hoped that the pain would pass.
This pain was easier than the pain he had been feeling for the past year. Years? He couldn't comprehend any more.
Dropping Thor was stupid. He knows.
He knows and he would help.
Wouldn't. He let you fall.
Returning the favor did nothing.
"Sir?"
Loki squeezed his eyes shut. "How long until we arrive at the Tower?"
Less than an hour, though Fury's carrier should have communication by then if he's as good as he boasts.
"Less than an hour, though Fury's carrier should have communication by then if he's as good as he boasts."
Too long.
He demands.
Can't hold it.
Loki stood and rested a hand on the side of the jet, fingers curling in the netting there. "Fly elsewhere." The pilots looked at him and Loki held the scepter toward them. "Fly elsewhere."
They had served their purpose.
Get rid of them.
Take them off.
The army is enough.
Loki's gripped tightened, but then he let the scepter drop to the floor of the jet A sharp pain ran through his mind and he had only a brief amount of time to at least save two miserable mortals. "Once you land, you will turn yourselves in," he said quickly. "And you will know nothing of what has transpired."
He fingers moved and he felt what little magic he had start to drain as the pull of the scepter forcibly removed itself from their minds. On the floor, the scepter itself shook before Loki took it in his hand again. He shut his eyes, using a precious handful of his power to transport himself to Stark Tower.
It is done. It is done. They are done.
Good.
Taken care of.
He sucked in another breath, letting the smells of New York shift through his nose. On the roof above him, Selvig muttered about while setting up the machine.
Loki stood, ignoring the rush of words through his mind, and waited.