The Old Buccaneers’ tavern was packed at this time of night. People and aliens from all walks of life roamed the small pub, gossiping and catching up, drinking and getting drunk. It wasn’t unusual to see a few Avengers drop by either; checking on the inhabitants or wanting to get drunk themselves, from the harsh realities of their lives. Sometimes some of the regulars would sit with the half-drunk Avengers, just so they wouldn’t be so alone. A few of the regulars wondered where Thor was, as he used to be a regular too, except he stopped coming after Thanos had been sent so rightfully to hell. They mourned him, but moved on pretty quickly. That wasn’t too unusual either - people were mourned, given their fifteen minutes of fame, and then everyone moved on. Many things that seemed unusual to the rest of the world had become normal for the Old Buccaneers’ tavern, like the Skrulls hanging out on the Saturday nights, the Avengers drinking away their sorrows during the twilight hours on Tuesdays, and large shipments of alcohol being sent off to New Asgard on Thursdays.
What wasn’t usual, however, was to see a stunning raven-haired woman sat in one of the booths. She was tall, and seemed to like the colour green - her eyes were shadowed with a dark shade, her nails were both ebony and jade, her suit was greenish-black, and her eyes... They were like emeralds themselves. Her smile never quite reached her eyes; never seemed to make her appear happy, but certainly gave off the impression that she wanted to rip someone’s throat out. She was unnerving but beautiful, all things that the regulars of the pub seemed to love. She didn’t say much, but when she did, her voice was frightening: it was silky smooth, but with an underlying layer of venom that made a few newcomers back away to the other end of the room.
“She called herself the Mistress of Lies; said she was looking for a place called Asgard.”
“She was scary, boss, I tell you! That woman is cursed!”
On the other end of the room, away from all the commotion, the woman smiled. This smile did reach her eyes, and with a short, sharp huff, she picked up her curved sceptre, placed the horned diadem back on her head, and walked out of the Old Buccaneers’ tavern, leaving nothing behind but a green calling card with the word ‘mischief’ written on it.