While having a god as your underling sounds pretty cool, Frieza couldn't help but frown at Loki's current appearance.
The green robes were in tatters, the golden, antler-like helmet was crooked, and his face was still smeared with the dust and blood from being thoroughly stomped into the ground earlier.
It was just too tacky.
As the Emperor of the Universe, and the future galactic real estate mogul, having his top henchman dressed like this? It was an embarrassment to King Frieza! If he were to meet with other intergalactic developers to discuss land deals, they'd think Frieza was running a junkyard.
"I have to say, Loki," Frieza said, kicking the still-feigning-death Loki with the tip of his boot, his tone dripping with distaste. "That outfit of yours really doesn't fit my aesthetic."
Loki flinched and scrambled to his feet, hands and knees hitting the floor, but he didn't dare stand straight. He hunched over, trying to make himself look a head shorter than Frieza. His face, which usually held a sly smile, was now a mask of pure terror and confusion.
"My... My Lord?" Loki's voice trembled. He was genuinely terrified; the beating still left his insides throbbing. "This... this is Asgardian royal attire. Doesn't it look good?"
In his mind, this was the most dignified symbol in the Nine Realms, and even if it was a bit torn, it still had that 'God of Mischief' swagger.
"Royal? Ha." Frieza scoffed, his eyes full of disdain for such backwater style. "It's so unsophisticated. Too many unnecessary layers. It's not sleek at all."
"If you're going to join the Frieza Force, you need to look the part."
Frieza extended a single finger and pointed at Loki. "Change into a white-and-purple skin-tight battle uniform. The kind that's high-stretch, form-fitting, breathable, and most importantly, shows off those muscle lines."
Loki was stunned.
White and purple? A bodysuit? What kind of bizarre fashion sense was this? Was this monster, with his terrifying power, actually a pervert?
But he didn't dare argue. Swallowing his humiliation, he channeled the last of his divine energy. With a flash of green magic mist, Loki's Asgardian robes vanished, replaced by the white-and-purple spandex bodysuit Frieza had described.
Tight. It was incredibly tight.
Loki felt like a sausage stuffed into a casing; he was completely uncomfortable.
Frieza looked him up and down, stroking his chin with a nod, but there was still a hint of pickiness in his eyes. "The colors are right, but it's still missing something."
"Shoulder pads! Don't forget the shoulder pads!" Frieza gestured a ridiculously exaggerated arc on his own shoulders. "The kind that stick out wide, pointy, and are a yellowish-brown color! That's the soul of the outfit! Get it?"
Loki's internal voice was screaming: What legitimate battle uniform has these anti-human shoulder pads?! They block your view and could easily get stuck on your neck!
Out loud, though, he could only respond meekly, "Y-yes, the shoulder pads."
Another flash of green light.
This time, Loki was completely transformed into a typical grunt from the Frieza Force... oh wait, no, he looked like a member of the Ginyu Force. A white bodysuit, purple inner lining, a chest plate, and two ridiculously exaggerated pads resting on his shoulders.
He was a dead ringer for a cosplayer who had wandered from the set of Dragon Ball straight into the Marvel Universe.
"Perfect!"
Frieza clapped his hands, looking at the newly revamped Loki with the expression of an artist admiring his masterpiece.
Now that was more like it! This finally had the look of an intergalactic army. Although Loki's face wasn't very 'alien' and felt a little out of place, the overall vibe was spot on.
---
"Excellent, excellent. From now on, this is our company uniform," Frieza circled Loki, looking more pleased with every moment. "You have great potential, Loki. I see you being a squad leader."
Loki looked down at the hard chest plate and twisted his neck to look at the shovel-like things on his shoulders. Inside, a thousand raging thoughts were storming through his mind.
What kind of ridiculous uniform is this?! How am I supposed to maintain my status as the God of Mischief wearing this? When I see Thor, that big oaf is going to laugh himself to death!
"This uniform... is truly stunning. My Lord, your taste is so... ahead of its time," Loki forced the insincere compliment through gritted teeth.
"Hmph, naturally."
Frieza didn't care if Loki was sincere. Good-looking? That was for others to judge. What he wanted was the pure, wicked satisfaction of perfectly recreating the Frieza Force's aesthetic.
Just imagine: capturing Tony Stark later, stripping off that red-and-gold tin can, and forcing him into a similar white-and-purple spandex, maybe even putting a big 'F' for Frieza on his chest. The thought alone was exhilarating.
And Black Widow, and Wanda...
Frieza's gaze grew a little distant.
Of course, the female employees would get slightly better treatment. Wearing these skin-tight battle suits in public was good for corporate culture, no question. But during private work briefings...
The bodysuit could stay, but fishnets with some kind of logo were absolutely essential! That's the kind of perk a great villain—I mean, a cosmic emperor—should have!
His mood brightened considerably with that thought.
He turned and looked through the shattered floor-to-ceiling windows towards the Stark Tower in the distance.
There, a blinding blue beam of light was shooting straight into the sky, tearing open a massive hole. The Space Stone's energy device was still tirelessly running, maintaining that heinous portal.
Countless Chitauri soldiers were pouring through, like a swarm of locusts devouring the city.
"Enough sightseeing. Time to get down to business."
Frieza adjusted his suit and tie. While he made everyone else wear spandex, he preferred a suit himself—he was the boss, the chairman, he had to look sharp.
"Let's go, Ginyu... oh no, Loki." Frieza almost blurted out the name of that purple-skinned, dancing captain.
"Where are we going, My Lord?" Loki asked cautiously.
"To the top of Stark Tower." Frieza looked at the blue light, a flash of greed in his eye. "I'm very interested in that Space Stone. I need to see it up close."
Besides, according to the original script, the Avengers should be gathering soon. While they're fighting, the so-called Security Council will prepare to drop a nuclear bomb on New York.
That would be his moment to shine.
He could hold the nuke in his left hand and obliterate the Chitauri mothership with an energy wave from his right. The fear-factor would come flooding in!
That's business strategy. That's leveraging the situation!
"Well... how are we supposed to get there?" Loki looked at the alien flyers swarming outside, then at his own empty hands. His scepter was shattered, his ship was destroyed; he was just a regular foot soldier now.
"How to get there?"
Frieza looked at him as if he were an idiot, then elegantly extended his right hand.
"Take my hand."
"Huh?" Loki was startled. Two grown men holding hands? The image was too much for him to process.
"Stop whining!" Frieza impatiently grabbed the back of Loki's collar on that humiliating battle suit, holding him up like a misbehaving kitten.
"Hold on tight. If you fall and die, I'm not bringing you back."