You know how it is? You're standing by the window in the morning, a fresh breeze is stirring your hair, birds are singing somewhere, golden sunbeams are playing on the walls of houses, nothing hurts anywhere, nothing tingles or even sticks out in unnecessary folds, and your heart is filled with peace and grace... That's exactly what I had, with just one s-i-i-i-n-y clarification.
With each passing moment I realized more and more clearly that I hated Asgard...
The problem wasn't even in Asgard, but in the fact that I ended up… Ended up in Loki.
And this wouldn't be much of a problem either, if Loki himself had behaved as a god should... I mean... GOD ! The very God of Deception! Intrigue! And MAGIC! Which he officially is.
Well, that is, he just took and gutted my memories, put them on shelves, assessed, weighed them and, as a result, either swallowed me like a donut or threw me out into the afterlife. There was one like that. I know. But no, Loki didn't do that. Loki didn't do anything at all. Probably... I don't know. Or rather, I don't remember.
Anyway, when my consciousness emerged from oblivion, Loki was gone. There was only me in the body and no God of Deception.
And this in itself would not have been so scary, giving a lot of options, like trying to establish where I am, whose body this is, why the helmet needs these huge horns... well, and other touching moments of self-identification in a new world and organism, with all the required stages, like shock, denial, aggression, bargaining, depression and acceptance. But alas, no one was so merciful to me, and the entire memory of the previous owner of the body was available completely and entirely from the very beginning, being accessible as my own. Which gave me a complete carte blanche for shock and depression, but left no chance for sweet ignorance, any hopes and delaying time.
But this wouldn't be so critical if I could perceive myself as Loki, or at least have suspicions that I could be him, like "my past life memory has returned." However, a bummer awaited me here too, since I perfectly felt where my memories were, and where Loki's memories were, and I didn't associate myself with him for a second.
As a result, for several hours now I have been comprehending the depths of the term "ass" using my own situation as an example…
Just two words: "Marvel Cinematic Universe".
Yes.
It was her.
It was enough to see my face in the mirror to cast aside the last doubts, but even without that, based on the memories of my predecessor, it was her. A pitch-black... deep... ass.
The most idiotic reality of all possible versions of the Marvel world. Realism multiplied by idiocy and raised to the power of creative impotence of the scriptwriters. I was ready to put up with the black Nick Fury, I was ready to forgive this world for the black Mary Jane Watson, I didn't even care about "Aunt May" performed by a lady "slightly over thirty" in "active search", I could even close my eyes to the electromagnet for shrapnel in the chest at the cold nuclear fusion reactor, without which the said shrapnel "unstoppably" moves to the heart... through something... I don't know how the local alcoholic playboys are structured, maybe everything really happens like that in their bodies, and the shrapnel that gets into the body will move precisely to the heart, threatening nothing else, and will "defeat the enemy team" only when it "reaches the base". Hell, I'll even believe that radiation sickness from prolonged contact with a radioactive element will completely and immediately disappear when a battery with some other radioactive element is stuck into a person; after all, we're talking about an alcoholic American playboy with shrapnel moving through his body toward his heart. God knows, I'm willing to put up with a wide range of nonsense and professional illiteracy coupled with pandering to trends that are destructive to society, but the Infinity Stones...
Stones, Karl!
A few multi-colored pieces of glass, endowed with phenomenal and irresistible cosmic power... Which literally every dog in this fucking universe knows about. But in this entire universe, there was only one enterprising "bad guy" who took real steps to collect them.
The writers had so many options for a global and terrible threat... They had Galactus, they had Apocalypse, they had the Skrull Empire, the Kree Empire, the Phalanx, the Phoenix, the Form Master... and about fifty other guys of similar caliber. And they chose some pathetic titan-loser with three convolutions - and those on his chin - to play the Archenemy.
Tremble, mortals! Thanos in the rhinestone glove is the Archenemy and a threat to the entire Universe!
And now I'm in this... this. Up to my ears.
Moreover, the structure of events is such that in a few years this purple, asexual, bald mutant dwarf will finally collect all the diamonds for a bracelet and make the world laugh. And most importantly: it doesn't matter how far I am from the scene of events, since, according to the conditions of the task, he can disintegrate me even on the other side of the galaxy, if this nonentity wants it.
Of course, I was overjoyed by these prospects. But there were plenty of other reasons to laugh, take my current surroundings for example. First of all, I was Loki. And that was bad. Not because all of Asgard considered this worthy person, to put it mildly, not a very decent gentleman, no, the problem was that he was listed as the son of Odin and Frigga. I can feel whatever I want about these personalities and the gods of Asgard in this reality in general, but I understand one fact absolutely clearly: these two will set me on fire in a moment. I repeat: I do not feel like Loki, I mean, the old Loki. I have already come to terms with the fact that I am in his body and that this is now my name, but I am not him. We have different characters, different priorities, a completely different view of the world. I don't give a damn about the throne of Asgard, I don't give a damn about Thor and I don't give a damn about his parents, but the one whose place I took had it the other way around. And this discrepancy will be noticed by anyone who knows the old Loki well. And that's almost everyone here. Asgardians live for millennia, life here moves very slowly and changes even less - all the facial expressions, gestures, non-verbal signals of neighbors are learned by heart by even the most stupid and narrow-minded in such a short time. So I can't catch the eye of Odin and Frigga if I don't want my life to become very rich, but short. I don't believe in the kindness of this honorary "all-father of the year" for one penny, because if he turned his own son into a mere mortal and then threw him out on Earth without food, water or means of subsistence, and sentenced his adopted son to death all over Asgard, then what he will do with the otherworldly invader of Loki's body, I don't want to check on my own skin at all. Especially in light of the fact that his face is identical to Hannibal Lecter's, only slightly retouched by a respectable beard and an eye patch.
Luckily, the old Loki had protected his chambers well from the gaze of all sorts of Heimdalls and other Odins, who were able to see and hear what was happening, regardless of walls, distances and world boundaries, otherwise the situation would have been completely critical for me. Fortunately, I also knew the methods of independent passive concealment and could easily apply them, which I did as soon as I figured out what had happened, but this did not cancel the main difficulty - Asgard had to be left immediately, but... I simply did not know where to go.
Never mind the Rainbow Bridge, Loki could walk between worlds using shadow paths, and I had already confirmed that I could sense several of the closest entrances to them, which the God of Deception most often used, but there was still "where to?" The worlds closest to Asgard were not suitable, although I knew them well thanks to my inherited memory. Earth? It could be suitable, but a complete mess would start there now, which I also did not want to take part in. I did not know exactly what date it was, but Thor's coronation, with which everything began in the film, had already been scheduled and would take place in the near future. Loki was furious about this and had already decided to disrupt the event by secretly bringing the ice giants into Asgard. Well, at least he only "decided" and did not "do it", and that was good enough. However, this means that Earth already has Iron Man and it's the 21st century, with the Avengers Initiative, Hydras, Chitauri invasions, and all that other crap.
No, I wasn't afraid to get involved in it. What kind of fear can we talk about when you wake up in the body of God, not only not remembering how exactly you came to life like this, but, for reasons of symmetry and dimensionality, reasonably suspecting that in a past life you successfully kicked the bucket? I literally learned in practice that existence does not end with death, and the local Asgardians not only believed in Valhalla, they knew that it existed. So I wasn't afraid of the showdowns of the local people, especially with Loki's powers and abilities. I just didn't want to get involved in them. I didn't see any incentive for myself. That's it. There weren't even any pretty girls in this world that would be worth fluffing up your tail for... Or something like that.
Natalie Portman was a cutie when she played Padme in the first film of the new Star Wars trilogy, but then she grew up, and makeup stopped emphasizing her natural beauty, turning into a means of preserving it in shots. And that's not something worth busting your ass and risking your head for.
Gwyneth Paltrow... look, I remember the name of the actress who played Iron Man's assistant, Loki's brain is a useful thing. Well, Gwyneth Paltrow... maybe she was good in a few shots, but otherwise she was a dull mouse.
Scarlett Johansson, aka Black Widow... burn alive. Just burn alive. Not only does she have the same problems in appearance as the previous ones*(1), if not worse, because her bitchy expression begs for a heel ninety percent of the screen time, but she also sold her homeland to the damned Yankees. And if we talk purely about the character, then she really should be thrown into a vat of acid, simply to cleanse the human gene pool.
Oh yeah, and there's also Sif, the heroic warrior maiden and Thor's friend. Here I want to cry out again to the female half of Hollywood's cast: when will you fools learn to remove moles from your faces? Or at least put on make-up when playing representatives of some perfect "high" races, like gods, elves and banal superhumans, whose legend assumes perfection of appearance and the absence of primitive defects on the skin? Do you even know how disgustingly uncomfortable it feels in your head when, on the one hand, you know for sure that the Aesir are gods who do not suffer from worldly diseases, are obviously gifted in everything that concerns physical perfection, who do not have violations in their genetic code, malignant and benign tumors, pigment spots, acne, warts and so on, and then... you see a mole on the face of a purebred Aesir? And this is, like, normal. And this has never bothered anyone before. But you suddenly noticed and experienced cognitive dissonance. And what's worse, there are plenty of such aces in Loki's memory, but no one cares, no one is bothered by anything. And because you, the director and the makeup artists are morons who created a moronic reality. Oh yeah, and Sif is a first-rate feminist. A real icon of the movement, if only the movement knew about her.
And you know what the most disgusting thing about the local girls is? The most disgusting thing is that all of the ones I listed and another twenty who remained behind the scenes are fucking Strong Independent Women. That is, not those who are actually strong and independent , but those who tirelessly scream about it every minute of screen time. Some other types flicker only in the background, and they are completely ugly, and those who are shoved into the foreground in this damned degenerate universe are not the women you want to love. These are women you want to take... no, not in bed, but just in your arms... and throw out the window! Because "fuck it"! Because such women are nothing but problems. Everywhere. At work, with friends, in the family: they are always a source of problems and stress. Fuck such women. Just fuck them!
Of course, I feel like a bit of an attic on wheels, trying to analyze real people based on the pictures from the movies, but the problem is that all of Loki's memories give me grounds for this. It so happened that I re-watched the movies about Thor and his brother not so long ago, and, damn it, everything matches. Down to the smallest detail! And this, seriously, is scary.
I hate Asgard. I hate this universe. I hate Marvel movie people!
But I'm here. And I guess I'm going to Earth anyway. Because it doesn't really matter where I go, because this entire universe will be leveled in a few years by Thanos in a rhinestone glove, and at least Earth has the Internet and potatoes. There are no potatoes on Asgard. The locals prefer game and fruit, and I like fried potatoes. Dying with fried potatoes is better than without them. Well, that's what I think in my not-so-adequate state of hysterical depression. And there might be normal, sweet girls on Earth... but it's better not to count on it, this is the Marvel Cinematic Universe, they managed to ruin even adamantium, turning it from an indestructible metal into a piece of shit that can be chopped with a heated stick.
However, despite the not very rosy analysis of the situation, it could not be said that all the time since awakening I was only engaged in falling into depression. My main occupation was getting used to the new... let's call it biochemistry. Loki's memory and reflexes were with me, but I also had the memory of life in a human body, and it, I responsibly declare, is significantly different from life in the body of a jotun, which in fact was the Asgardian God of Magic. My predecessor did not know this yet, but I knew that he was not the son of Odin, but the son of Laufey - the king of the ice giants. Perhaps a half-breed, this would explain the difference in size and appearance, but these are insignificant details. The point was that the body of an ice giant was perceived differently than a human body. More senses: there is a sense of magic, space, the world underfoot. And also those feelings that are familiar and familiar to a person are much more perfect, sharper. I can count the number of flower buds in a flowerbed located three kilometers from the palace, I can hear the ringing steps of the guards' iron boots in the courtyard six floors below, I can single out all the shades of aromas floating in the air, I can identify each of the tree species blooming in the garden. And all this does not interfere, does not even attract attention.
But the most important thing, of course, is the magical skills of the previous owner of the body. In Asgard, magic was called all areas of creative knowledge that went beyond the craft. There was no division into mystical and natural science, probably because for the Aesir, the mystical side of the world was as close as the physical one. In the kingdom of Odin, full-fledged technomagic reigned, where high technologies of the level of artificial intelligence, antigravity and nanomachines existed in close symbiosis with classical magic, as it is understood on Earth. True, fireballs and all sorts of ice arrows were not found in the magical tradition of Asgard, for such things there were enchanted weapons, although masterpieces like the hammer "Mjolnir" or the spear "Gungnir" were not often found among them.
In general, while the brain was experiencing not the best moments from the awareness of the surrounding reality, the hands and the rest of the body were busy checking reflexes and practical knowledge, making sure that everything from Loki's arsenal was available to me. The results of the check were pleasing: I could create any illusions, including those material enough to strike the enemy during a fight, I could fully change my own physical form, turning into a giant snake, I could use telekinesis and transfer objects "in" and "out" of a subspace pocket, as well as many other little things, I think there will be no problems with the magic of the mind - my predecessor was also a master in it.
But several hours had already passed since waking up, and no matter how extensive the arsenal of the one who received the title of God of Magic was, I had used and rechecked everything I could use alone, and wasting time any longer seemed stupid - it was time to get out of this world. Unfortunately, I could take little with me, only Loki's personal belongings, a few artifacts from his collection and several hundred books on magic that were kept in his chambers. He had read all these books and, in principle, there was no use in them, although I could try harder, because where else would I get literature on magic? The artifacts were almost useless and rather carried a cultural-nostalgic value, reminding me of campaigns through the Nine Worlds and victories over all sorts of troll shamans and other creatures dabbling in magic, living inside the sphere of Asgard's interests. Well, as for personal belongings... He always had several artifact suits, capable of easily undergoing transformation for certain needs, in his subspace pocket, the same was true for his favorite daggers, which he preferred to other weapons, and the God of Deception did not have any other things. In this regard, Loki was no different from any other healthy man, being very unpretentious and ascetic. Of course, I would like to grab something from the treasury, but Odin watches it very carefully and will notice the penetration, and I am not such a greedy kleptomaniac as to risk my life for a beautiful thing.
But what I am ready and even must do is to create some fog and try to protect myself from possible consequences. I think a properly composed farewell note would be a little worse than the canonical contact with the Casket of Winter in front of Odin, so let's take a sheet of paper from the table and recall the Asgardian script...
Doing it was a little more difficult than saying it. In my previous life, thoughts rarely came so easily to my head and formed into coherent phrases for transferring them to paper or a monitor screen, but here composing the letter did not require the slightest effort, probably due to the rich practice of this brain in coming up with excuses on the fly, although what difference does it make? It turned out, in my opinion, a little dry and caustic, but... it's probably better that way.
" I have learned who I am. And who my true father was. "You were both born kings" - I remember that phrase well, Odin. Although I do not know now how to feel about it. And who was I in your eyes. A son? Or just a tool, a useful hostage? I have much to think about, and so I am leaving Asgard. If you truly consider yourself my father, then please do not look for me. When the time comes, I will return myself.
Also, give my congratulations to Thor - in light of this new information, I realize that the throne was never meant to be mine. This new information explains a lot about my life. However, it would be petty to be offended about this and right now, so good luck, Thunderer, it was fun with you, but now I have to go and understand and figure out who I really am.
With best wishes, Loki, son of Laufey. Rightful heir to Jotunheim ."
Having glanced at the table where I had left the farewell note, and then at the chambers to which I might never return, I walked out the door. I wonder who will find this message? Although... in any case, Odin will be "fun". I felt like laughing villainously, being the "God of Mischief" was adding its own touches... But getting back to the question. If any of the guards try to visit me, the fact that the Allfather was hiding the son of his main enemy will very quickly become public knowledge, and a significant "aftertaste" will arise. Besides, in such a case I certainly shouldn't be afraid of the Aesir who want to bring back the prodigal son - on the contrary, they will be glad that the "Jotun spawn" has left the walls of Asgard, at the same time no one will do stupid things, like try to finish me off - Odin named Loki his son and will not appreciate such an encroachment on a representative of his kind, to put it mildly. If Thor finds the note, breaking into his brother's chambers with a question why he did not come to the most solemn moment in his life and did not bow to the new king, then it will be about the same - this not very smart God has never been able to keep his mouth shut, he will definitely tell his friends. And they will spread the "good news", except that the news will come to Odin faster and much more expressively. In the unlikely event that the Allfather himself descends, the old man will be a little unpleasant, perhaps even hurt, but that's all - he will either tell Thor everything in private, very insistently asking him not to spread the word, or he will say something like "I sent Loki with an extremely important and urgent matter." Be that as it may, I really hoped that such a move would either completely free me from the obsessive supervision of the "relatives", or, at least, give me a head start.
While I was lost in thought, I didn't even notice how I reached the right corridor. The Path of Shadows began right here. It was along this path that Loki had thought of bringing the giants from Jotunheim, but for me it would serve as a road to other places. Even though it would be more difficult to get to Earth this way, "more difficult" does not mean "impossible". Taking my last breath of the air of my "small homeland", I tore the space apart with an effort of will, opening a passage into the realm of eternal twilight. And I took a step forward.
Shadow passages are not the most pleasant thing, even being a master of magic, having a natural talent for subtle sciences in general and their dark direction in particular, sliding along the underside of the world could not be called a pleasant activity, it is not surprising that, having the opportunity to use an alternative in the form of the Rainbow Bridge, that Loki preferred to use it. I did not have this alternative, so all that was left was to grit my teeth and go further through the twisting and dancing metric, where three dimensions flowed into only two, and then immediately became an eight-dimensional space ... only to return to an almost normal four- and five-dimensional. And although I had experience of walking such paths in my memory, I encountered something like this for the first time, and therefore, having emerged in some snowy forest, illuminated only by the light of the stars and the distant lights of the highway, I breathed a sigh of relief. I got there! Now I need to make sure that I am still reliably hidden from the view of all interested parties, and I can already go out to the people.
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