The Loki Identity

An Avengers, Almighty Johnsons Crossover

Disclaimer: Avengers is the work of MARVEL, Disney, Joss Whedon, and many, many decades of cartoonists at work. The Almighty Johnsons is a TV Fantasy Series developed and created by South Pacific Pictures, James Griffin, and Rachel Lang.

A/N: Do not expect much of a reason as to why Colin now has possession of Loki's body. It simply amuses me. The Cosmos decided it needed to be done. The cosmos being the author.

Part One: Musical Chairs Is Not A Game (Except When It Is)

SHIELD Underground Bunker

"Aye, Son of Fury, my father ordered these chains crafted specifically for my brother."

"But will they hold him? I've known my fair share of men who were more dangerous hogtied than with a weapon in hand."

"I have been assured the... mask... will stopper his magics as well as render him insensate and pliable. He will have not the strength to fight, nor the mind to scheme until he has been brought before the AllFather to face judgement for his crimes."

"So your basically drugging him into compliance?"

"No comments, Stark."

Auckland, New Zealand

"I HATE YOU!" Eva Gunderson screamed, decaying plants going unnoticed as her temper rose. "I FUCKING HATE YOU! YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST DO WHATEVER YOU WANT! YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT ANYTHING!"

"Love you too, sweetheart." Colin shrugged off his daughter's rant and knocked back a shot of Fenris Vodka. The brand name amused him and as he ran a finger along the lip of the glass he summoned a bit of heat into the excitable liquid. It flamed nicely. "Did you forget to take your meds again?"

"I'M NOT CRAZY! I'M NOT CRAZY AND NEITHER WAS MOM! YOU MADE HER LEAVE! YOU MADE ME LEAVE!" Eva tossed a glass clock that shattered against the fireplace and sent glass scattering into the white, plush carpet. It was going to be a bitch to pick out. Easier to just get a new carpet. It wasn't like he couldn't afford it. His daughter took a breath and though she was still shaking she managed to bring her voice back down. Tucking her hair out of her face Eva spoke, "But I met some people today; people who told me what I was. Why I feel the way I do. Things you should have told me!"

"What would you have wanted me to say? Congratulations, it's goddess puberty?"


"But Eva, you aren't..." Colin trailed off, dropping his glass as a sudden sense of vertigo flushed through him. He shook his head and tried to focus on his daughter's face. She couldn't be Frigg. There was absolutely nothing about her that was Frigg-ish. Took after her mother, really, in both looks and personality. Lofn's incarnation had been quite the little spitfire, both in bed and out. "You can't..."

He fell, tipping sideways off the couch and hitting his head against the coffee table. The glass cracked.

Eva rushed forward, anger draining from her face as she began to shake her father's shoulder while dabbing at the blood quickly staining the white carpet. "...daddy? DADDY!"

SHIELD Holding Cell

Colin came to in a place with dim lights that he immediately recognized as not being his. For one thing, the bed he was lying on was far too uncomfortable. He spent good money on quiet, comfy springs for all manner of activity that could last for as long as his considerable libido dictated. And while he may not be all that appreciative of his partners even he had standards.

If he wasn't lying on the deplorable mattress, he'd had burnt it.

"You sure he's safe?" Colin's godhood enhanced senses picked up as he fought through what felt like a massive hangover, the likes of which he hadn't seen since the 1985 Folkmoot. Damn but Heimdall could drink them all under the table.

"He's been sitting there like that for hours." A considering pause followed by snickers. "God or not I heard the Hulk turned him into a fucking rag-doll."

Colin felt two surges of emotion. One was a sharp spike of -not fear, he wouldn't call it fear, maybe concern- at the throwaway comment on his godhood. He certainly hadn't forgotten the circumstances behind the Gunderson clan relocating to New Zealand. The other feeling was a wriggling thread of red-hot rage at the men's laughter. He hated it when people laughed at him.

As the voices trailed off Colin cracked open his eyes and cautiously sat up. He tried to open his mouth, to speak and find out if there were microphones or cameras monitoring him, but found his attempt blocked. Odd, how he almost hadn't noticed it. The chains that clinked as he raised his hands to explore the odd muzzle gave him pause and he looked down in surprise.

His hands weren't his hands.

And he had no idea what he was wearing. So. Much. Leather.

Oh My Odin. Colin thought. I've pulled a Freyja.