Madness of the Serpent

It quaked in terror as it shriveled down into a pinpoint of light, attempting to make its energy as insignificant as possible so as to be unnoticed by the colossal consciousness which loomed over it.

To claim it was massive would be an understatement. To claim it was omnipotent and overwhelming would be closer in accuracy, but still far from the truth. It was everywhere, and it watched the spirit with passive curiosity, acknowledging its existence, but disinterested as to how it got there and why.

Several tense, unknown ticks of time passed, and the spirit relaxed from a mote of light into a miniscule ball of energy. The titan mind was still present and watchful, but did not behave in a threatening manner. It did not do much of anything except observe, its colossal presence as ominous as a gaseous nebula storm.

The spirit supposed it should have been grateful that the massive consciousness had not decided to obliterate the insignificant being. Or maybe it would, and was just waiting. The spirit did not know, and it trembled in fearful anticipation of its unknown fate.

A living organism could only know the fear of its life ending. That was nothing compared to the terror a spirit could feel when its soul was in danger – and there were not many objects in the universe which could cause such clear vulnerability to beings of pure energy.

The godlike mind-jewel was one such threat. A sparkling, golden gem hidden within the confines of the orb – it was the source of the sceptre's power, and it held within it a mind so vast that the shade used every ounce of willpower it possessed not to simply vanish in its massive presence.

It did not know how long it remained in that state, paralyzed in fear of the massive mind, but also desiring to explore its confinement. It was completely isolated from the universe – from the concepts of time and space. It was unknown if the Jotun-Asgardian still lived, or if millennia had passed. All it knew was it was trapped with an unknowable, incomprehensible entity, and there was no apparent route of escape.

Fortunately for the spirit, the enigmatical mind-entity had rapidly lost interest and began to ignore the shade altogether. It seemed to be fascinated and entertained by the workings of its own mind, and the shade began to ignore it as well, instead focusing its concentration on how it would escape its new prison – preferably without releasing the infinitely vast mind.

The golden gem did not seem overtly malicious or malevolent, but it did not emit a sensation of good-will and altruism either. It exuded auras of calculating and ruthless complexities, emotionless and infinitely expansive musings and introspection.

The spirit preferred not to unleash such an entity if it was avoidable.

Forced confinement in a physical space was extremely disturbing for a being which was accustomed to unhindered movement accompanied by infinite possibilities of exploration. If it wished to be elsewhere, it took little effort to travel along the light of stars and arrive at its destination nearly instantaneously. It could slip between the permeable barriers of the universe if it so wished – neither solid mass nor gaseous clouds could impede its progress.

Its frustration at being hemmed in by the strange, glowing azure material was inevitable – if pointless. The unknown encasement must have been immeasurably durable if it could trap the mind-jewel, let alone a wandering spirit. No matter how fiercely it flung its energy at the barrier, no matter how it tried to chisel away at the impediment with bursts of scorching light, it made neither dent nor mark.

So it waited. And waited. It waited in bright nothingness, always mindful of the thinking, calculating jewel, but now more concerned that it would be trapped in this oblivion for eternity.

The longer the spirit lingered in its prison, the more it began to fret over the welfare of the Jotun-Asgardian. When it had been taken from his presence, he had not been left in an encouraging state. It could still recall his cries of distress, his mental anguish coloring the empty spaces of the air with a harsh, bright hue.

The source of his misery had not been the foul creature itself, exactly, but the power of the mind-jewel with which it was trapped. The jewel was able to somehow inflict impressive amounts of pain without causing any physical damage, which may have explained why the spirit had been vulnerable to its brutal intentions.

Is this was the case, why did the massive mind not cause it harm now? Why had it not been destroyed?

What had happened to the Jotun-Asgardian in its absence?

Its thoughts began to spiral into deeper and darker depths, its psyche suffering first from alarm, then concern, then despair as it realized it had left him in the possession of a creature that would most likely cause him suffering and bodily harm before extinguishing his life.

Just as it began to contemplate the benefits of self-destruction in the form of losing itself to the powerful draw of the mind-jewel, there was a shift in the integrity of the azure walls of the orb.

There was another powerful artifact nearby – similar to the golden jewel – but with a unique energy emission that vibrated slightly out of sync with the surrounding space. The two were becoming linked across the multiple folds of the universe through a circular tear that had formed nearby. Their bond was more than an energy-based connection – it was practically sentient. Recognition, familiarity, yearning to be joined together, as if they were quantum entangled companion objects.

The spirit would have curiously watched the pair of unique objects and their fascinating affinity for each other if it had not been so concerned for its own liberation. And then it glimpsed through the connection to the outside universe and found its situation was even more dire than anticipated.

Around the brilliant shimmering portal forming on the surface of the meteoric rock were hundreds of thousands of restless aliens, fidgeting and twitching in impatience, watching hungrily as a lone figure holding the golden apparatus waited to step through the tear in space.

The spirit shivered, a rainbow of colors running through its form as it realized it knew the identity of the wielder. The Jotun-Asgardian was barely recognizable in the way that the spirit was able to observe him. His psyche had been shattered and carelessly reassembled – his soul twisted and darkened with streaks of raging black coloring his mind.

What had occurred since it had been trapped in the orb? How much time had passed? What horrors had they visited upon him?

Whatever their methodologies, his tormentors had been exceedingly thorough. He stepped eagerly into the glowing portal, and they were instantly transported across the universe through the artificially-induced opening. Normally, such a colossal leap across space would have been enjoyable and entertaining to the spirit, but these were not joyous circumstances, and it trembled in turmoil and distress.

And then the spirit saw it – an opportunity for escape. If it was quick and clever, it could possibly ride along the connection between the two energy sources and flee into the surrounding area, simply vanishing from physical space. If it was swift enough, the light it released from its energetic form would not even register in the physical world. It could go back to the stars and be safe in the obscurity and vastness of the never-ending darkness.

But then it realized the portal was not closing. The massive army of frightening creatures was preparing to follow the broken Jotun-Asgardian through the circular tear. Their battle-lust and thirst for wanton destruction was palpable as they chittered in eagerness, their auras glowing with a dull, violet light.

The spirit could not just leave the situation as it was. It had to act – perhaps interrupt the transportation of the unknown creatures, prevent them from following the Jotun-Asgardian. The aliens were unfamiliar to the spirit, who had come across a vast number of species and races during its exploration of the physical planes of the universe. These hive-mind beasts were not from the planetoid of Asgard, nor were they from the frozen valleys of Jotunheim. They were unknown but volatile, their vicious instincts basic and their minds connected and simplistic.

It did not know the Jotun-Asgardian's intentions, but it could plainly see theirs. Any creature unfortunate enough to cross their path would be violently ripped to pieces.

The spirit believed it knew a way to prevent their entrance, but it would lose its chance – its opportunity to flee to the stars and forget it had ever stumbled upon the Jotun-Asgardian. It owed him no allegiance and no debt; it would be completely free and unfettered to abandon him to his fate.

There was no choice to make.

As the spirit was about to transport itself from the azure orb to the outer environment using the connection stemming from the mind-jewel, it was ensnared by the massive mind. Long tendrils of golden energy wrapped around the spirit like a predatory beast around its prey. It struggled to free itself from its psychic grasp, flashing in alarmed colors of red-purple as it fought with every facet of its soul.

The mind-jewel – perhaps unaccustomed to direct confrontation – slightly slackened its hold around the writhing sprite. Struggling to liberate itself from the powerful thought tendrils, it stretched towards the sliver of freedom, which the mind-jewel reacted to by clamping down securely on the energy being.

In an act of pure desperation, the spirit wrenched itself in two – leaving behind the part of itself that could not break free of the mind-jewel. It sent most of its energy through the connection, seizing onto the undulating edges of the spherical gateway.

Without any hesitation, the spirit overloaded the edges of the portal, exploding the remaining energies into a fantastical aura of fiery blue light.

Straining with all of its focus and willpower, ignoring the abandoned part of itself still trapped in the orb, the spirit directed the unstable energy of the collapsed portal upwards, hoping to contain the volatility away from the dark outline of the kneeling Jotun-Asgardian, preferably into the emptiness of space.

Its progress was halted by a solid ceiling, and the spirit realized with growing panic that it was in some type of structure – possibly on a planetary surface or in a space vessel. It could not force the collapsed energies through the stone.

Holding on to the erratic energy as fiercely as it could – forcing it into a compact ball of fiery energy – the spirit observed from above as the Jotun-Asgardian attacked other physical beings. It was helpless to act, already doing everything in its power to keep the portal from decimating the organisms within the blast radius. It watched in sorrow, as the lost being it had saved extinguished their life energies one by one. Oddly, he spared the lives of some. For those few, he filled their bodies and minds with the tendrils of the mind-jewel, and they obediently followed his damaged form as they departed. The Jotun-Asgardian did not spare even a glance towards the spirit as it held the collapsing portal energy in its grasp.

The spirit knew its time was nearly finished. The collapsed portal was reaching untenable energy levels, and the limited part of itself inside of the orb would not survive the devastating soul-shattering that was about to occur. And even if it did survive, there was no guarantee the mind-jewel would not simply crush it into oblivion for its rebellious actions.

The spirit held onto the pulsing ball of energy as long as it was able, giving the Jotun-Asgardian enough time to escape, along with the other creatures with the disturbing golden auras. The energy writhed and throbbed under its weakening gasp, twisting and pulsing as if it were a living thing straining to break free of the spirit's bindings.

It could no longer hold. The spirit surrendered, its split-consciousness obliterated in the devastating explosion which followed, the part of itself remaining in the orb beginning to flicker and fade in the grip of the titan mind-jewel.

The spirit had done what it could to aid the Jotun-Asgardian and stop the dangerous beasts from following him. But it was not enough. It had wanted to do more, needed to do more, believing it still had an obligation to return the lost being to his home. But it simply had nothing left to give.

When it had all but winked out of existence, the spirit was made aware of the presence of the massive mind-jewel. It had been watching the events transpire with vague interest. There was no anger or hatred at the sabotage the spirit had caused. No intentions of punishment for its misdeeds. Instead, the omnipotent mind seized tighter onto the fading spirit, holding what remained, not allowing it to vanish in its boundless, undeniable grip.

The spirit was unsure as to whether it should be pleased or dismayed. Most of its energy had been destroyed, and there was barely any of its own consciousness left. But it grasped on to the presence of the mind-jewel. Despite the absence of flesh and blood and bone, the spirit clung to its existence as desperately as any dying creature with a physical form.

______________________________________________________________________

The Mind Stone observed. Calculating, re-calculating, and documenting. Unique objects demanded its attention, and the energy being fit this category. It had a mind without a body, much like itself. It had fought against the Mind Stone with a tenacity that was unanticipated and miscalculated. It was uncommon to observe an entity which was able to manipulate the compelling energies of the Stones, as this one had done when it interrupted the synchronicity of the Space Stone's aperture.

It was rare to find an energy entity with such abilities. Rarer still that it had used its capabilities to risk its own integrity.

The Mind Stone wanted to know why. Why it attempted self-sacrifice. Why it acted in an irrational manner for an illogical conclusion. It did not understand. Nothing was beyond its comprehension, and yet… it remained puzzled.

It had to discern the reasons for the entity's incongruous behavior. A simple field trial would suffice.

Unique. Singular. It was best to preserve the being. And see what it would do.

______________________________________________________________________

Loki brooded in silence, alone. Once the new minions Agent Barton, Dr. Selvig, and the various other mortals had settled into their dilapidated and moldy headquarters, he had sought solitude. He needed to think, and being around tiny, insignificant mortals had a way of distracting his complicated and nuanced thoughts.

He was reluctant to call them an army. They were a feeble, pathetic lot – SHIELD enemies who could see no further than their own avarice and selfishness, but he had no other recourse after the unforeseeable collapse of the portal.

Once, he had been driven by petty rivalries and a pitiful desire to please those whose attention he had craved. But no longer. The Tesseract had shown him a brighter path. The celestial cube had revealed unending power and unimaginable beauty to him. It had shown him ruling Midgard as a beloved god. The corrupt, weak humans of Earth would worship him, freed of the burden and pain of decision-making and disappointment that were the only gifts bestowed by their so-called "freedom".

There would be a better world under his rule. He would be a capable leader, fit for any throne on any world, despite what his… what the All-Father believed.

Loki would be firm, yes, but he would be fair.

There would be no more human wars. No more famine. No more deaths from preventable diseases or from lack of basic necessities such as water and shelter.

No more genocide.

Well… apart from the initial carnage and purging of resistance and rebellions, but that was an unfortunate, necessary step. And who could blame him if he took pleasure in the joys of conquest and invasion? It was something the humans themselves had done their entire history, was it not?

Loki planned to end the destruction of Earth from the mortals who lived upon it – destruction which had already begun long before his arrival. The atmosphere had already begun to change in a way which would prove cataclysmic in the short span of a few decades. The suicidal humans burned through their natural resources as if they owned ten planets, instead of the one unique one they had thoroughly pillaged and squandered.

Loki was going to save the mortals from themselves. Who could argue with such a plan and still consider themselves on the side of morality and righteousness?

It had taken long – much too long – for him to understand the task he was destined to fulfill. His allies had shown him the correct path, and he was eternally grateful the Tesseract had opened his eyes to the wondrous purpose which awaited him.

But for now, he needed to think. Loki was no fool. His new allies would not be lenient with his failure of maintaining a stable portal for the wave of Chitauri foot soldiers – only the first of many such breaches which were destined to open across the planet.

They would punish him. They would take his failure as a sign that he was unworthy. Always unworthy. No matter how valiant his efforts or how carefully constructed his plans.

Loki understood that the Other and his Master would not be as benevolent as he, even when he succeeded in opening a stable portal. The alien shock troops and the flying leviathans would obey him, true, but to what extent? And for how long? He was not so naïve as to believe that while Thanos ruled over the rest of the universe, he would allow Loki to lord over Midgard as he saw fit. What if the Chitauri's Master was displeased with his authority over the mortals, or simply wanted one of his own minions to rule in his stead?

The mortal scientist was setting up the machine which would house the Tesseract, causing a new portal to form and hold open a stable wormhole. The human had already been in possession of the machine as he and his colleagues had attempted – amusingly – to replicate the function of the Bifrost and find their way to Asgard. As if the All-Father, in all his platitudes about the value of the Midgardians, would allow any of their ilk into the Realm Eternal.

But creating a stable portal was not the only purpose the machine would serve.

Loki needed a backup plan. He would not be who he was if he did not devise plots inside of plots, and this situation would be no different. He trusted the clairvoyance and vision of the Tesseract, but he did not entirely trust the Other or the one he represented. He made it a rule to trust no one – not since his fall from grace on the bridge of Rainbows.

This was not something the Tesseract had shown him, but the idea had been created in his own clever mind. And that was enough.

"The housing for the sceptre has been completed, and all of the equations you provided have been input exactly as you specified," a raw, Swedish-accented voice spoke from behind.

"Good. We shall begin immediately." Loki rose to his feet, attempting to hide the wince that played across his pale face even though his back was to the mortal. His body creaked and ached from the persuasion that his allies had visited upon him when he had stubbornly refused to embrace his destiny.

"Are you sure about this? We have no idea what, specifically, may happen. We still don't have the materials necessary to stabilize the cube-"

"You question my decision, doctor?" Loki smiled, his tone as soft and smooth as a wolf's pelt. One which was still attached to the wolf.

"No, no, of course not," the Dr. Selvig said, smiling nervously as his unnaturally blue eyes fixated on the floor. A gift bestowed by the mind-altering sceptre which Loki had wielded to devastating effect earlier in the underground SHIELD compound. It had been surprisingly easy, taking two of the most useful mortals from SHIELD and making them his favored slaves.

"Then do not waste my time with baseless concerns and test my patience with pointless misgivings." Loki's smile curled into something unpleasant and sharp, and the scientist paled at his presumption and error.

Loki could not deny the enjoyment he derived from dominating and frightening this particular mortal. The doctor had become a close companion of Thor's during his oh-so terrible banishment to Earth, and it filled him with endless happiness that he now held the human within his grasp.

Oh, but how sweet it would have been if the woman had been there instead. If Jane Foster had been summoned to consult on the Tesseract rather than the old man. How delicious would it have been to hold the woman of Thor's heart under his thrall, forcing her to participate in the destruction of the planet his brother loved so dearly?

Alas, the Norns had decided to spare that encounter for another time. Because there was no doubt in Loki's mind – he would find Jane Foster. And he would break his brother's spirit, just as his had been shattered by the betrayal of his not-family.

But before that happened, he needed this Dr. Selvig for a while longer and at peak performance. As much as Loki enjoyed tormenting the human, he understood perfectly well that words of encouragement could be just as effective as threats of endless suffering.

"You are clever for a mortal, doctor. Director Fury had every confidence in you to unlock the potential of the Tesseract, and I shall endeavor to do the same."

The human relaxed his shoulders imperceptibly, but he was still pale and sweaty with fear. As he should have been.

"Of-of course, sir. We'll get started, right away. If y-you come this way, please." The primitive scientist all but tripped over himself to return to the makeshift lab, staying well ahead of Loki, who followed with a slow confident step that hid his various and still-mending injuries.

They would heal soon enough, and he could never show weakness. Never. Not even in front of his mind-controlled militia. He was a magnificent god who would soon have a kingdom to match.

It was just taking longer than he would have hoped.

Loki was pleased to see his mind-slaves acted as a well-oiled machine, never tiring or slowing or bickering as they worked on the device or patrolled the corridors of the abandoned system of tunnels. He had been correct to enslave Agent Barton – the man had found the useful underground refuge almost immediately after their escape.

It was not the most dignified lair for a deity, but it would suffice. SHIELD was still recovering from the devastation he had wrought in the underground complex, giving Loki the time he needed to spawn another portal.

"This… is it?" the Asgardian inquired, looking doubtfully at the oval opening formed on top of the metallic machine which housed the Tesseract, only partially complete.

"Yes, sir. All you need to do is insert the sceptre, blade down, when I give the word." The doctor had recovered from his earlier fright, his enslaved mind already obsessed with the glory that was the Tesseract. Loki could not fault him for his fixation on the wondrous artifact. He, too, found its glowing exterior distracting and tantalizing, hinting at the true power which lay deep inside.

The Asgardian held the sceptre's blade above the machine, waiting for the mortal's signal.

He would never admit it to the insignificant mortals, but he was exhilarated. Combining the raw power of the Tesseract with the sharp focus of the sceptre would hopefully bring his plan to fruition. If not, it would – at the very least – cause something fascinating to occur.

And if they were destroyed in a glorious explosion of cosmic energy, at least he would no longer have to worry about displeasing Thanos.

"Now!" the scientist said, his own face as hungry as Loki's to see what would transpire once the might of the sceptre and the Tesseract were combined.

Loki thrust the sceptre downward, his teeth gritted and bared as a broken piece of rib moved somewhere deep inside, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead from the nauseating pain.
The blade re-appeared below the metal housing, sliding past the Tesseract with only centimeters to spare. The blue orb lightly grazed the equally blue cube and Loki felt a surge of power flow through his palms, knocking him backwards.

It was out of his hands – quite literally – as the two artifacts began to thrum loudly in unison.

"Do you see it?" the trickster god demanded of the scientist. His sweat-slicked face watched the Tesseract intently as it and the orb both glowed brighter and brighter, filling the air with a humming that made his chest vibrate and his fingertips tingle, his physical injuries already forgotten.

"I see… something. Two energy signatures," the doctor replied, his frosty eyes focused on the computer screen. The assassin Barton stood behind him, and Loki would have been impressed the mortal had escaped his notice if he had not been so preoccupied.

"One of them is absolutely massive. Its energy readings are off the charts! It's… my God… it may be as powerful as the Tesseract itself!"

"Ignore it," Loki instructed the awe-struck scientist. "Focus the Tesseract's power on the weaker entity. All of its power that you can muster."

"It's… barely registering. The amount of energy it will take to do what you are asking is-"

"Just do it!" Loki snapped, momentarily feeling his composure slip as the broken rib in his side began to throb, declaring its presence at the Asgardian's sharp intake of breath.

He would not fail, not a second time. He would succeed. Anything less would be the beginning of his end.

"Yes, sir," Dr. Selvig replied, his already pale features growing paler at glimpsing the feverish rage which filled the god, always brimming beneath the deceptively calm surface.

Loki smoothed his raven-locks from his sweaty forehead before attempting to quell the anger within – already a losing battle. Instead, he focused his pale blue eyes on the Tesseract and sceptre. Their powerful hums had reached an almost painful pitch, haunting in their harmony, the metal housing for the cube vibrating in an alarming fashion.

If the device comes apart before I succeed, I will cut off the Selvig's least important appendages one by one, Loki thought with a small smile, improving his mood regarding the less than ideal situation he had found himself in.

The two artifacts soon reached a level of vibration that made even the stone floor rumble under his boots. Just when Loki was positive the machine would come apart – along with the entire tunnel system – a blinding blue stream of energy blasted straight from the Tesseract, flowing through the sceptre and using it as a focal point as the light formed an unstable, amorphous shape a few feet from the machine. With a loud pop, sparks of energy began to ricochet around the dank, tiled room.

"Use the sceptre to focus the energy!" Loki snapped, his teeth clenched and his jaw taut as he glared at the scientist who was frantically working the various inputs of the computing machine.

"I'm trying! It is highly unstable!"

Loki covered the short distance in a flash, his voice low and deadly in the mortal's ear.

"Try harder, mortal. Do not lose hold of that energy signature," the deity hissed through his teeth, the sweat on his brow betraying the fear which was beginning to creep up his spine. "Or you will lose the parts of yourself that are unnecessary for the one task I have set before you."

The mortal looked as if he was going to be ill, or possibly faint in terror, and the fallen prince felt nothing but icy dread. He could not fail. The importance of this task had grown in his mind beyond that of a contingency plan. Loki could not pinpoint how he had come to this conclusion, but he intrinsically understood this task was going to be monumentally significant – maybe as equally important as wielding the Tesseract itself.

"Sir, look," Agent Barton said with a calm demeanor, jerking his chin in the direction of the glowing, shifting mass. It appeared to have grown more stable – as was the light beam which was focused from the sceptre's bright orb. Sparks and jets of plasma energy were no longer shooting from the glowing form, and as Loki watched, it began to coalesce before his eyes.

The light beam began to taper off, and the radiant silhouette began to fade as a cohesive outline took its place, luminescent smoke floating from its surface.

The sceptre and the Tesseract both dimmed their luminosity, as if what had just occurred had consumed most of their power – which it may well have done. This did not concern Loki, as he understood the Tesseract and the sceptre had unending power which could never fully be depleted.

But the glowing mass on the ground – that did concern him.

"It… it is done. The entity has been extracted and reconstituted with 100% integrity," the doctor said in hushed wonder as he approached from Loki's right side. Barton stood at his left, staring down at the figure with glowing azure eyes, showing mild interest and a raised eyebrow.

The glowing smoke cleared, and they could see the object clearly at their feet.

A naked mortal woman, soaking wet and curled into a fetal position, long inky black hair sticking to her shoulders and back. She was devastatingly… human.

The long silence was broken by Dr. Selvig's confused voice.

"I thought it would be… bigger."

Notes