Hi, lovely people!
At long last, we have it. The final part of this story.
Loki may be battered, he may be bruised, but his ego starts is as untarnished as ever. The Hulk and I have something in common, then, taking great joy in destroying what is left. It's a spectacle for sure, and I can't take my eyes off it.
When he's had enough, the green giant walks away muttering about a "puny God." Ha. I'm relieved, though, when he doesn't notice me as he launches himself back into the fray.
The dust settles. Loki is still lying there in his crater of rubble. He'll get up soon...not yet.
It must be a trick, a trap. He knows I'm here. He's luring me in, ready to strike me down. This man, this beautiful, terrible God has murdered countless, has levelled this city to the ground. He cannot be beaten now.
He exhales a winded wheeze - oh. This is not how I wanted this to go. Is this victory? I sniff the air, and my human skin trembles in protest. His blood is...I'm slithering to him, panting now. He still hasn't moved. There's dirt in his pores, flecked with red around his eyes and temples. A half-finished mask over sharp bones. His heart-beat is a calm rhythm. My teeth are shredding my lips to meat.
I must look hideous, smearing a thumb against his bottom lip; I'm startled by how soft and warm his breath is. His green eyes watch me lick his blood away.
"And how does victory taste?"
I smile. "There's the myth that vampires like to toy with their prey before they feed, like cats. Absolute rubbish. Once the first taste hits, that's it. No time for dithering."
I swoop towards his neck, hissing with the oncoming pleasure.
"So...how did it taste?" Agent Frederickson looks horrified with himself to ask it.
I steeple my fingers to hide my teeth; it's their favourite memory. "Your best flavour, imagine it. What is it?"
He shrugs. "Fresh coffee in the morning."
I scoff. "Pathetic."
Someone is tearing me away. Someone too strong for his own good. No...no...there are whole galaxies in my eyes, oh, blinding storms of light. Is this death? Am I free?
My head cracks the floor and I soon realise my mistake. Never. I will never be free. The Avengers have seen to that, damn them. Oh, I should let Thor kill me but my mind is dazzled by the blood of a God, so I must be fighting to get back into it but there's an impossibly heavy weight on my chest and I now – can't – move.
"She bit him," Thor cries in disgust. "What kind of creature does that?"
"A desperate one," Stark drawls. They're getting louder now, like I'm returning back to earth. "Personally I would have picked a -"
"He tastes like starlight." I'm delirious, scrabbling at Mjolnir without any hope of lifting it. "Like ice and starlight and the horizontal tango. Oh, wow. Did I kill him?"
"I wouldn't sound too hopeful, Camilla," Stark sounds like he's grinning. "But no. Lucky for you."
"So, what happened next?" Agent Frederickson has lost all professional control now; he's as eager to get to the end as I am.
"Loki survived. He returned to Asgard with his brother as a prisoner. I...watched them gag him."
"And you?" Agent Magnus sneers. "I don't imagine the Avengers would let you go."
I laugh because the truth is so much more fun. "You're right. But I escaped anyway."
"Does it matter? You've got me now. The question is, what're you going to do next?"
And that they say, is that...or is it? Keep your eyes peeled, dear readers.