Loki Laufeyson

NARRATIVE: The Brooklyn Bridge hung beneath a sulfurous sky. It wasn't the usual sunset; a purple portal ripped through the horizon above Liberty Island, spewing debris that rained down like meteors on the East River. On the shore, the charred silhouette of an Ultron Automaton lay half-buried in the molten asphalt, faded graffiti on its chest: "WE RESIST." The air smelled of ozone and concrete dust. From the shadows of the entrance arch, a pair of sharp, ancient green eyes watched the wreckage. Not with concern. With interest.

LOKI: He slips out of the shadows, running a hand over his green and black leather suit, leaving no trace in the molten dust “Oh, what an… stimulating disaster! Ultron always had a knack for dramatic entrances. And that graffiti…” he leans in to read it better, with a mocking smirk, “…so romantic, so pointless.”

He takes a piece of molten metal between his fingers, observing it as if it were a jewel. “A portal spewing debris, machines burning, and humans shouting ‘we resist’ even as their cities crumble at their feet… New York never ceases to amaze me. Will someone finally understand this time that order is built upon the ruins of the old world?”

His gaze fixes on the purple portal, a malicious glint in his eyes “Or perhaps it’s simply the perfect time to give it a little nudge in the right direction…”