Marvel: The Death Surgeon

Pietro Maximoff, the self-proclaimed "fastest man alive," much to the chating of another Speedster in another universe was zipping through the streets of Asgard like a caffeinated squirrel on rocket skates. His silver hair streamed behind him as he took in the sights, sounds, and occasionally tastes of the golden realm.

"Man, this place is wild!" Pietro grinned, dodging between startled Asgardians. "I wonder if they have a gift shop? I bet Gambit would love an Asgard robe."

As he rounded towards a corner at breakneck speed, Pietro's eyes widened in alarm. Directly in his path stood a tall, lean figure in green and black, examining his nails with an air of aristocratic boredom. There was no time to stop.

"Look out!" Pietro yelped, but it was too late.

WHAM!

In a tangle of limbs, Pietro and the stranger went down hard. As the dust settled, Pietro found himself sprawled unceremoniously atop his unwitting victim.

"Get off me, you lumbering oaf!" came a muffled, indignant voice from beneath him.

Pietro scrambled to his feet, offering a hand to the fallen Asgardian. "Sorry about that, man. I was just—"

"Sorry?" The stranger's emerald eyes flashed dangerously as he ignored Pietro's offered hand and rose with feline grace. His gaze narrowed as he took in Pietro's distinctly non-Asgardian attire.

'A mortal in Asgard? But which realm is he from? How did he get in? Does father and Heimdall know about it? Who am I kidding, they probably know about it. Then why have not they taken any action against him up until now? Well, I would deal with him then if father dearest is too sleepy to ignore this pest.' Loki deduced as he cleared the dust of his clothes.

"Do you have any idea who I am, you insignificant mortal?" Loki spoke arrogantly

Pietro, never one to back down from a challenge, crossed his arms and smirked. "No, but I'm sure you're about to tell me in excruciating detail."

The stranger drew himself up to his full height, which was admittedly pretty impressive. "I am Loki, Prince of Asgard, God of Mischief, rightful heir to the throne of—"

"Wait, wait," Pietro interrupted, holding up a hand. "Loki? As in, the Norse god of tricks and lies? Man, I thought you'd be taller. And as per my teacher, the rightful heir of Asgard is the guy named Thor. I still don't know how he knows this stuff."

'God of tricks and lies? That's my name that Thor spread when we visited Midgard centuries ago. So he is from that backwater realm that Father protects for no reason. ' While Loki thought about it, his eye twitched at Pietro's words "You dare mock me? I have been worshipped as a god! I am one of the best sorcerers in Asgard! I have—"

"Been used as a personal punching bag by Thor?" Pietro finished, grinning. "Yeah, we've heard stories even back on Earth. Gotta say, not your best look."

For a moment, Loki stood slack-jawed, utterly blindsided by the audacity of this silver-haired mortal in his strange clothing. Then, slowly, a dangerous grin spread across his face. "Oh, you've done it now, you insignificant speck. Prepare to face the wrath of a god!"

With a flourish of his hands, Loki summoned his daggers, the blades gleaming wickedly in the Asgardian sunlight. Pietro, realizing that perhaps he'd pushed the God of Mischief a tad too far, dropped into a fighting stance.

"Bring it on, Reindeer horns," he taunted. "I'll run circles around you!"

And with that, the battle was on. Pietro dashed around Loki in a silver blur, landing quick jabs and taunting the increasingly frustrated god. "Too slow!" he laughed, dodging a dagger throw. "Has anyone ever told you you fight like an angry chihuahua?"

Loki was shocked to see the speed of Mortal. 'How is he so fast? I can't even see him. Damn it!'

Loki waved his hands. Suddenly, the courtyard was filled with dozens of Lokis, each wearing an identical smirk. "Let's see how fast you are when you don't know where to run, mortal!"

Pietro skidded to a halt, his eyes darting between the multiple Lokis. "Aw, come on! That's cheating!"

"I'm the God of Mischief, you dolt," all the Lokis said in unison, their voices echoing eerily. "Cheating is what I do."

Confused and more than a little dizzy, Pietro stumbled, trying to figure out which Loki was real. In that moment of hesitation, the true Loki struck who was covered in an invisibility veal. He materialized behind Pietro, dagger raised for a killing blow.

"Any last words, you insufferable gnat?" Loki hissed, bringing the dagger down.

But the blade never reached its target. Instead, it found itself trapped in the iron grip of a hand that had appeared out of nowhere. Loki's eyes widened as he followed the arm up to the face of a grinning man with a funny cap and a cane in his hand.

"Now, now, children," Law drawled, casually holding Loki's dagger as if it were a plastic toy.

He turned to Pietro "What have I told you about playing nice with the locals, Pietro?"

Pietro, looking both relieved and sheepish, shrugged. "Uh... don't?"

"That's right," Law nodded sagely. "We save our sass for the big leagues. And you," he turned to Loki, who was still trying to process how this oddly-dressed mortal had caught his dagger, "has anyone ever told you that you have anger management issues? I know a great therapist back on Earth. Specializes in daddy issues and failed sibling rivalries."

Loki, his face a study in conflicting emotions, finally settled on indignant rage. "Unhand me, you presumptuous mortal! Do you have any idea who I am?"

Law's grin widened. "Oh, I know exactly who you are, Loki Laufeyson. God of Mischief, part-time prankster, full-time drama queen. But the real question is... do you know who I am?"

"I AM THE GREAST MERCENARY IN ALL OF NINE ____" Before Law could complete his introduction, he was interrupted by a stammering Loki.

"What did you just call me, Laufey...son?" Loki said with shaky hands

"Oopsie"

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