Viral Paradox

Future Planet

Damn! Damn it all!!
Loki’s footsteps rip across the red dirt, dust clouding his ankles. He scoops up a nearby stone and hurls it across the air. It lances a tree trunk, the bark splitting, flecks of wood flying.
It’s not enough. Loki’s hands form claws and a bubble of energy bursts from him, fanning a radius around him. A shout tears at his throat, ringing his own ears.
Idiots! All of them!
Insults rattle around in his head, each more visceral than the last as he curses each damn Avenger for their stupidity.
How dare they send him away?! Now they will have no hope of survival!
Another thought pings through him. Why do I care? Years ago he was ready to lay waste to that wretched planet. Why should he give two fucks if they all end up dying now?
Loki shivers, teeth grinding together in the ghost of a snarl. He wraps his arms around himself, squeezing his body as if the act will contain his emotions. He tips forward, knees hitting the hard ground.
Fools. The whole lot. They should be grateful. They should be throwing themselves at his feet in gratitude! His vision blurs and he curses himself too.
“Do you weep for them, brother?”
Of course Thor would be here. Of all the times he’s shown up to needle Loki further, this might be the worst. Loki whirls on him, teeth tearing at the wind.
“Now you see my tears?!” he yells, “All those times we were children, you outshone me--every time I did something right, you had to do it more right. Every time you did something wrong, it was my fault!” his voice hitches as he fires his rage at the only person available. And he hates himself for it.
Loki, god of chasing people away…
Thor eases himself down next to Loki, lacing his hands in his lap. “Loki…I’m sorry. When I was young…we were competitive, you and I. One of us would be King.”
“Father never planned to make me King. And after that relic’s prediction, you were convinced as well.”
“Fear of your magic made our youth difficult. But I did always love you. Even when we fought. Even when you were misguided. I always cared for you.”
“Only Mother did not fear my powers.”
“I see her in you,” Thor says. “In every illusion. Every cantrip. Every time you heal.”
“I am not so good at healing as she was.”
Thor rubs his nose and sniffs. Loki chews his cheek worriedly.
“So, where are we?”
Loki places his palms on his legs, “We’re on the Variant’s base planet. He’s hiding here, plotting something. Wait, how did you get here?”
“Stark sent me.”
“He can do that?”
Thor shrugs vaguely and stands. “I imagine this Variant is some sort of villain of time?”
“Well, a bit. It’s a variation of another person, an alternate version of them. This one is…me. A different me.”
“I see. And you have faced him once already?”
Loki nods.
“Very well. We shall…” Thor’s eyes mist, his features pinching as he takes in a mouthful of air. “H-HRSCH!-HNN!” Ribbons of lighting encircle his arms, crackling once and then dissipating.
Loki stands and brushes himself off. “Perhaps you should let me handle this.”
“We are both ill, Loki. And you are more frail than I.”
“Beg your pardon! I am just as capable as you are!”
“On a good day, yes.”
“Look, if anyone is going to be able to fight in a battle while sick, it’s us. So we go together, yeah?”
Thor smiles up at him and they clasp hands, Loki pulling his brother to his feet. “We do. Together.”
They trudge along the packed red earth, bootprints dusting away in the wind every few steps. Every now and then, one of them pauses to cough or sneeze. Thor’s are continuously increasing in volume and danger.
He curls a fist under his nose, pressing against his nostrils as he drags in air, “HHh-HEH-SHHHHuuu!” lightning snaps the ground like a whip, thunderclaps echoing across the region.
Loki swears, “You’re so loud, are you trying to blast open the gates of Hel?”
Thor sniffs, “What do you expect from the god of thunder?”
Loki rolls his eyes.
“Just try to avoid the…hh-thhh-HEIX-TSHHHEU!!” another peal cracks the ground right next to Loki who dances away and glowers at Thor.
“I swear, I get shocked every time you’re sick.”
“Not every time. You’ve been dead often, brother.”
“Point taken.”
They continue a few paces before Thor asks, “Why does Stark call you dust bunny?”
“Thor, if you love me even a little, you will never call me that.”
Thor chuckles.
They approach what seems to be a stunted castle--barely even a fortress. It looks more like a historical landmark. It has turrets and a spindly tower, all dressed in the brown veins of dead ivy.
It's cheesy and ridiculous and Loki would never be caught dead in a place like this. His Variant must be losing his mind.
They enter the castle and find it's nothing more than a maze with only a few larger rooms in each section.
“Do you know where he is?” Thor asks.
“I can send illusions to map out the way.”
“Will that get us caught?”
“Not if you can keep your mouth, and your nose, shut.”
Thor grunts and folds his arms, waiting as Loki transforms into a mouse and splits into a dozen--two dozen--a hundred scurrying mice down the halls while his true form waits patiently on top of Thor’s boot.
Finally, Loki leaps into the air and changes back into his human form, straightening his tie and smoothing his hair.
“Find the way?”
“It was…Hh-XST!” Loki sniffs, pinching his nose, “enlightening. Follow me.”
Their boots echo through the chambers, muscles tensed and ready for attack.
Thor's breath snicks, lip stuttering as his throat rumbles louder "Hhh-Nhhh--”
Loki flings his arm out, fingers curling around Thor’s lips. His index and thumb find his nose, pinching it shut as the breath slinks between Thor's lips.
Thor scrunches his nose, jaw tightening under Loki's grasp. He tips his chin and exhales through Loki's fingers. Satisfied, Loki removes his hand. Close.
They turn into a long hall that leads to a wide archway. Then, a throne room--a shockingly destitute looking one, with merely a two tiered stage and a crumbling throne. Windows have ratty cloth covering the squares of light, only a few beams piercing the tattered holes in the scarlet drapes.
The Variant Loki splays his body across the crumbling throne, his smile so wide and vivid, it should have its own circus show.
As they approach, Loki can see the dark, archaic lines zigzaging down from his eyes--like ink under his skin. His eyes are a soft black, jittery, cutting back and forth between Loki and Thor.
His mouth cracks open, “Are you here to see me conquer death itself?”
The brothers still, rooted to the stone floor. The Variant sways to his feet, magic dripping from his fingers like liquid light. He flicks his fingers at the wall and it spins. The stone rotates, grinding as it reveals a marble table. Thor’s body is stretched out upon it.
Loki’s eyes widen. A variant of Thor?
“What are you doing to him?”
The variant cackles. “Isn’t it obvious?” his limber fingers trail along the corpse. “I intend to raise him from the dead.”
“What?!”
Variant Loki nods, lips tipping down. “I killed him. I regret it. But now I can reverse my mistake.”
“How in the Nine Realms will you do that?”
“It is not much different than what we did in our youth.”
Loki’s voice pitches. “It is completely different! That…that was a fluke of magic. What you’re doing is necromancy.”
The Variant’s eyes flash with rage. “The magic exists. It is my right to claim it!” He spins to the body, blackened ends of his fingers playing at the Variant Thor’s temples in a crown. “Wake up, brother.” A ripple of darkness coats the body, vanishing as quickly as it appeared.
Variant Thor’s eyes fly open, dark starbursts frothing in his irises. He sits up, face blank, eyes glazed. His skin is pale as moonlight, beard an inky black--a monochrome version of the god of thunder.
Loki and Thor backpedal. “You…is he…?”
Variant Loki places a fist on his hip. “His mind is still gone. That is why I wanted the scepter. I cannot bring his mind back without it. But, I can control the body.” He brushes the undead Thor’s shoulders, “Brother dear, would you please capture our guests? I’d like the skinny one alive if possible.”
Loki snorts. Skinny?!
Thor grabs Loki’s hand and tugs him back, but Variant Loki arcs his arms above his head, magic whooshing with his resounding clap.
The world tilts and suddenly, all four of them are outside. Undead Thor grabs what looks like a ghostly skin of Mjolnir and takes off.
Loki feels Thor’s arm wrap around his middle right before his feet lift off the ground. Thor takes off, Mjolnir carrying them through the air. Loki peeks back and sees Thor’s double rushing equally fast on their tail.
“You’re not losing him!”
Thor banks a hard left, jerking Loki with a grunt. He speeds toward the ground and hovers mere feet from it. Loki slips from his grasp and lands on the ground, barely catching his fall.
Thor doesn’t stop. He speeds past Loki, luring the double away.
“Thor!” Loki shouts, rage flushing his neck, “You utter dick!! Don’t you dare leave me behind!!”
But Thor does not return.
Damn him. DAMN HIM!
Loki starts to run, picking up speed until he’s sprinting full out across the field. He leaps off the ground and his body contorts into a sleek hawk. He zooms after Thor, finding him locked in combat with his undead double.
Loki upturns his feathered body, talons pointed down at the evil double. He soars, descending faster and faster, transforming at the last minute so his boots slam into the undead’s back. It knocks the double flying and Loki tumbles, rolling to his feet.
Thor knits his brow, tossing his hammer in a flip, “You should let me handle this, Loki.”
“Not a chance.”
The Variant Thor flings his hammer at them--it’s pitch black, drizzled with splotches the color of mist and bone. It brumes with dark energy.
Undead Thor flies at them, catching Thor in the ribs and kicking him clear across the field. Then he turns onto Loki and chucks the hammer.
The coal-stained weapon sails toward Loki. It catches him in the shoulder and he stumbles, his hand instinctively coming up to grab the hilt of the hammer, throwing it off of him.
Loki freezes. Wait.
He stares at the inert hammer, moving slowly toward it. He reaches out, wrapping fingers around its leather bound hilt. He lifts it. It’s both heavy and light at the same time.
“I…can hold Mjolnir?”
He looks up at Thor who is using the pure version to fight both variants.
That must be it. The hammer in Loki’s hand is tainted. Bound to chaos.
Does that mean…
Loki flings the hammer across the field, waiting until it’s a ways away before summoning it back. Just like Thor’s does, the hammer obeys him, rubberbanding backward and into Loki’s hand.
Oh. This will be fun.
Loki swings Mjolnir in an arc, attempting to take flight. He smashes it into his knee and stumbles to the ground.
Egh. Not as easy as it looks. Well, he’ll just improvise.
Thor is fighting both variants now. Loki needs to even the odds. He flips the hammer and chucks it at the undead Thor. It sings through the air, that metallic whirr, and cracks against the variant’s head.
Loki sprints toward the battle, arm out to catch the hammer before bringing it back down against the variant’s chest. Necro Thor catches it by the head and wrenches it from Loki’s grasp, swinging it around to smack him.
They play hot potato with the hammer for a good while, Loki finally getting the hang of spinning it like a ring. Loki finally gets the upper hand. He swings the hammer and misses. Variant Thor lunges and Loki snipes him with a burst of stasis magic, ramroding him into the stiffness of a board so that he nosedives to the ground, motionless.
He keeps his focus on the stasis to keep it from breaking, but he looks for his brother fighting the Loki variant--hammer versus spear.
Loki has fought Thor many times. They are a good match--on a good day. Today is not a good day. Thor’s movements are sluggish, his strikes weak from the toll of the virus or the Variant’s time magic. Perhaps both.
Either way, Thor is losing. He slings his hammer but the variant dodges with a cackle. Thor is not doing as well at dodging. Necro Loki keeps catching him with the spear--in the legs, the arms, even the face, leaving pink and red gashes trailing blood, until the ground beneath their feet is slick with it.
One of Thor’s punches catches the Variant in the jaw. Necro Loki gasps, stumbling backwards as Thor closes in. Thor reaches out to grab the Variant but Necro Loki’s form fades, vanishing in a flicker of gold trim.
Thor blinks, hand grasping air. Loki watches it happen as if on a screen in slow motion. The Variant appears behind Thor. The tip of the spear pierces his chest. Thor cries out, spine curving backwards, his body going limp as he falls out of consciousness.
Someone yells. Screams. It’s so loud it rings Loki’s ears. He gasps as if he were ravenous for air. His head feels cloudy, throat raw.
It was him. He screamed Thor’s name. His feet lift, preparing to race to his brother’s side, but something cracks against his head and darkness takes him. He doesn’t even feel himself hit the ground.

Loki strides into the room, boots clipping across the gold-flecked floor. He grins out at his subjects, hooded by his horned regalia. His arms spread out at his adoring subjects.
“King Loki!” someone calls, voice ringing against other cheers of praise. “Hail Loki!”
Loki circles the golden throne, cape arcing around his waist. He lounges across the seat, feeling weightless as a quilt of clouds.
A woman pads up the marble steps and places an offering at his feet. “For you, my King.”
A lazy smile blooms Loki’s face and he leans forward to admire the offering. It is an oval platter, black as void. It teems with energy, black and thick. As Loki stares into its center, his gaze fogs with darkness.
Loki…
His perspective shifts abruptly. He blinks and the scenery changes. It’s dark, his vision is narrow, as if peering through the eye of a needle.
He senses a form nearby. A warm body. Loki tries to move his head, but when he does, his vision darkens and he feels his neck snap forward, “HHhhIZZSHH!!”
The whole world tilts and he careens backwards. His head thumps against the back of the throne, gaze fluttering. His nose itches.
The faces of his adoring subjects pepper his vision. They look to him, shining with admiration. Loki rubs his nose with an index finger and waves his hand for a guard to take the offensive offering away.
Loki…
He stiffens in his chair, heart doing a drumbeat in his chest. It beats hard enough to hurt. Something pings against his cheek and he cups his jaw, glowering in the direction of the assailant. But he sees only his subjects, growing increasingly ravenous for him
They are clamoring toward him, desperate to glimpse the true king. Yes! Loki! The…ne T..Ru… Ing of aSgD …afYsoN Glor…urpse…
--LOKI!!
Loki throws himself to his feet, a cry clawing up his throat. The room goes dark. The roar of his subjects hammers against the howling wind of Frigga’s voice.
…dying…
Loki growls, “What are you saying!” he shouts. He will be obeyed. His subjects fall silent as the dead. All Loki can hear is the pulse in his ears.
“Am I dead? Is this…Hel…” his fingers graze his chest and he feels it pulsing, as if his heart were in his palm.
His neck cranes down, so slowly it barely displaces air. Dread pools in his gut as his King regalia fades and he is wearing a uniform and tie. There is a slash in the middle where a dull red glow pulses…the same tune as his heartbeat.
“What…”
His head jerks up. Everyone is gone. Loki stands alone in a blaring white hall. Frigga’s voice clangs around in his head.
TR IS DYG.
Memories explode in his head. The fight. The virus. The spear…
Thor is dying.
“No…” Loki hobbles across the screaming bright tile, steps echoing, clattering around his head in the formless world of white. “I’m dreaming,” he rasps, picking up speed even as blood begins to rush out of his wounds. “I need to wake up!”
Thor is dying.
He spins, breaking out in a sprint, chugging air. No walls appear, no doors, only the white void of his mind. “I need to wake up!!” He skids to a halt and claws at the hole in his chest. Pain. He needs to feel pain. That will wake him.
Wake up! Wake up damn you! Wake--
Pain shocks him with each rake of his nails, and he gasps, heaving air as if he’s broken the surface of the ocean.
His eyes fly open, his body jackknifing upright. The pain is white hot in his chest, his shirt painted onto his skin with sweat. The bitter splash of reality washes over his vision.
His head whirls, finding the body next to him. Thor. Battered, broken, breaths ragged and sporadic. His body held at an angle, the snapped end of the spear cutting through his chest.
“Thor,” Loki’s attempt to squeeze out the word comes in a whimper. He scrambles to his brother’s side, palms slipping across his motionless form, painting them red.
He presses his stained hands to Thor’s cheeks, vision blurred and drunk with grief. “No…this can’t happen.” The heat from him is sweltering, like hovering in front of an open oven. His face is pale and bathed in sweat.
"Thor," Loki cups the back of his head and gives it a tiny jostle.
Thor’s breath snags and he chokes out a wheeze. His voice is brittle, “Er du virkelig her, Loki?“
Loki blinks salt from his eyes, “I’m here, brother,” he squeezes Thor’s hand, “I’m here.”
Thor’s muscles tighten, body shifting, nose pressing against the cool stone as his chest inflates. “Hhhh-EXSHH-hhh!” Small spider legs of lighting crawl from him, flickering across the damp stone. He lets out a stormy cough and goes limp once more.
He’ll survive the spear--Thor’s lived through worse. But there is too much damage to his body, already being ravaged by the virus.
Even if Loki used the tempad, he can’t interfere with his own timeline to prevent the injuries. Every time traveler knows that, even the ones who don’t follow the other rules.
Shit. Loki’s jaw feathers, tears shivering down his cheeks. He has to do something. And only one thing comes to mind.
His fingertips wink to life, bathing the cell in an emerald hue. He presses his hands over Thor’s wounds and pulls with his magic. The wounds begin to knit together under his palms, flesh stitching closed.
Loki snarls into a grimace as his skin splits, pain spiking in a mimic of Thor’s healing wounds. His body starts to shake, blood cutting red lines down his arms to dot the stone floor.
Loki transfers all but the spear wound--if he takes that on, he won’t be able to get them to safety. He peers around and notices how rudimentary the cell is. Clearly, his Variant didn’t think they’d be in a state to escape. Only a small coating of magic along the bars prevents the cell from being a simple dungeon. Loki can easily get out, but Thor…he’ll have to carry.
It’ll be easier to teleport straight to help. He fumbles for the tempad. It slips around in his wet, jerky grasp.
“Hhhih-EKSZHH!” his hands shudder and the tempad slips from his grasp, landing on the stone floor with a clatter. Loki reaches a shaky, blood streaked hand to press the button.
A portal opens on the other side of the cell. Loki frowns. He was sure he set it for Asgard. He needs to get Thor to a healer.
“Holy shit,” the sound of Tony’s swear startles Loki, making his jaw unhinge.
“Wh-what…” The room begins to fill with the Avengers: Stark, Banner, Widow, Barton, Rogers. “What are you doing here? And how…”
Tony tosses the tempad to Loki. “You brought us here.”
Loki stares at the new (well, older) tempad. “This means…”
“It means we have a bad guy to fight.” Tony gestures for Loki to follow.
They all look well. Devoid of illness. Even Banner, who didn’t even get an antidote. How long has it been for them since they last saw Loki?
Loki hesitates, eyes flicking to Thor. “I can’t leave him…I…”
Tony sees Thor and blanches. “What the hell happened to him?”
“We were a-attacked--ngh!” Loki wobbles to his feet, cracking open his wounds. “Hhh-hizzSCH!” the sneeze wrenches his body and he gasps, pain singing to life.
“Well, we don’t know where to go. Can you tell us?”
Loki swallows and nods. He splits himself into two, and his physical form kneels beside Thor. His duplicate passes through the bars like a ghost.
“This way,” Loki takes the lead down the hall. As he walks, his wounds bleed, dripping from his glamoured form to vanish before it hits the ground. Loki explains everything: the time stone, undead Thor, Necro Loki’s magic to revive and control the dead.
They all take it without comment. Strange. Loki expected questions, quips, maybe a bit of Stark snark. But they all are treating him like…well…like they trust him.
“Hhhfff..” Loki’s illusion stumbles, flickering as if a dimming light bulb, “H-SZZCHhh!” it peters out completely before fizzing back to life.
“Stay with us, Loki.”
“Oh *snf* not dust bunny anymore? HH-ekgZH!”
“If you keep sneezing like that, you will be.”
Several steps later, the illusion flickers again; Loki’s physical body sprouts buds of pain causing him to grimace and suck in air.
“Loki,” Tony reaches out to grab him but his hand passes through the glamour. “Shit, are you dying?”
Loki fades in again. “No.” He squeezes his eyes and sips a breath through his nostrils. “I am doing all I can. Not sure how long…”
“Just get us to the bad guy and we’ll do the rest.”
Loki nods and pushes his illusion forward. The hall forks and Loki splits his projections, mapping out the correct path as swiftly as possible. His duplicates multiply until he finds the way, then all but one illusion vanishes.
Loki points, “This way.” He leads them a few steps, “Be cautious. My Variant is quite powerful. And Thor’s…” grief shocks his breaths and he shivers. “He will not easily be beaten.”
“We got it, Loki. Go take care of Thor.”
Loki nods and his illusion vanishes, leaving the Avengers to do their job.
In the cell, Loki cups Thor’s cheek in his palm. “I’m going to help you, brother.”
An inhale, too soft, too stilted, “hhh-RRsssHHeh! hhh…!” Thor’s voice is mostly breath, shifting the air between his lips. “You…” he sniffles thickly, “wounded…”
“I’m okay. I’m taking you to Asgard--”
Thor grunts, shaking his head. “They…you’re dead…”
Oh. Right. They all think he’s dead in this timeline, but really, he is disguised as Odin. In fact, none of the timeline will be safe for them.
Loki purses his lips, frustration a bubble in his throat. Thor seems to be growing more lucid as time passes. “Come,” he scoops Thor up, ignoring the jolt of pain skewering his bones. He heaves Thor to the portal. “We will get you help.”
He carries his brother through the portal to Earth, the weight of his guilt and grief heavier than his brother’s slack form.