Loki hates Christopher Columbus. He was the one person that if he ever met in hell, he would make sure he would show him exactly what qualifies someone to be the Angel of Death. He's the one that ruined it for him and Bartleby. Before his "amazing" discovery, there hadn't been much in Wisconsin to distract the watcher besides a few Indians here and there. It took awhile, he would admit that. The full effects of the man sailing over to their hell-hole side of the world didn't truly ripple for many years after he had died. Still, it was all his fault.
Wisconsin had been boring before, nature going wild all over the place. There hadn't been much to do for fun, not like that really changed all the thousands of years later but it had been different. Bartleby always had to be watching someone. Then, it had been him. He used to always complain that it bugged him and that he wanted him to cut it out but he knew the other couldn't just stop. It wasn't in his nature.
At first, he didn't mind the company of the new people. He actually enjoyed it. It was fun to tease the people about their prude ways and strict views on God. His partner enjoyed it too because he had to watch and finally there were more people to look over. Loki didn't realize until 1654 that he didn't like that fact at all. It had been a Wednesday, exactly 10:16 pm, he would never forget it.
"Hey, let's go play with the preacher." He'd called up to his friend who had been floating above the trees, looking down at a family, getting ready for bed.
"No, I'm good."
"You sure? You haven't come with me all week."
"Loki, I'm sure. Go ahead."
It had been just like that, that he realized that he was no longer needed in his friend's life. He had his humans. He didn't need him anymore. There were a few hundred years of irritation for him until the country really started to pick up. He forgot all about being unnecessary awhile he joined the watching for a little bit, curiously seeing what the little humans were putting together for themselves.
They were good during that time. They were just like best friends were supposed to be. The invention of the television had been something to bring them even closer together. Bartleby could watch his humans while he didn't have go out of his mind while boredom waiting for someone to move for the first time in several hours. He'd enjoyed the 1900's as a whole actually. The World Wars had been the most fun he'd had since… Well raining down sulfur had always been a fond memory for him. Maybe all of that had distracted him from his partner when he should have been going the surveying. .
Then in 1999 he was reminded of exactly how unimportant he had become. His best friend killed him. Part of him thought it was well enough that it had happened. The need for Loki in their relationship had ended years ago. It was only him who was in actual need for the other. Soon enough, he knew, he would have been left behind. He was somewhat happy he'd died before that day because he knew he wouldn't be able to go on without Bartleby, he simply didn't know how.
So, that was it. He decided that it was all Christopher Columbus's fault that his friend had decided he was no longer valuable to him. If he had the power to go back in time, he would have flown over and killed the man in some fun way. Then, then maybe he would still be in Wisconsin pretending to hate being watched by his Bartleby.