{Chapter: 276 The Pretentious Loki}
"Facial features match at 67%. Cross-comparison through thermal and structural analysis shows a 79% match," William reported in a calm and focused tone as he manipulated the keyboard with ease. The face slowly being reconstructed on the screen was unmistakably that of Loki.
"Where is he located?" Coulson asked, stepping forward with urgency.
William's eyes narrowed as he examined the information. "Number 28, Königstraße, Stuttgart, Germany. It appears he's not even trying to stay hidden. Quite the opposite—he seems to want to be found."
Fury glanced toward Steve, his expression unreadable but firm. "Captain, you're up."
Steve nodded, standing tall. "Understood."
"Captain, come with me. Let's get you suited up." Coulson practically beamed, barely containing his excitement. This was the moment he had dreamed of for years—seeing his childhood hero in full gear, not just in history books or vintage newsreels.
As they left, Fury turned to Hill and said quietly, "Looks like you managed to dig something useful out of him. Let him stay—he may be more than just a mouthy recruit."
Hill gave a rare and almost imperceptible smile. "Understood, Director."
Meanwhile, William stood behind them, his eyes flickering with a hidden intent. On the screen, Loki descended the stairs of an elegant German hall. He wore a sharp tuxedo and moved with an aristocratic grace, his every step echoing across polished marble floors. Below him, the city's elite mingled, completely unaware of the chaos about to unfold.
Fury barked his next orders. "Romanov, you escort the Captain. And Tom—yes, you—you're going too. Stay sharp."
"Yes, sir." William quickly fell in step behind Natasha.
As they passed Hill, she leaned slightly toward him and whispered without looking, "Be careful."
William's lips curled faintly, and his eyes flickered with that same, dangerous glint. "I always am," he murmured.
---
Königstraße 28, Stuttgart, Germany.
The grand ballroom was alight with chandeliers and filled with soft music and murmured conversation. Waiters moved elegantly between guests, and a bald man in a tuxedo stood at a podium, delivering a speech to the well-dressed crowd.
From the upper level, Loki appeared, his presence immediately commanding attention. He descended the grand staircase with an eerie calm. A security guard in black noticed him and took a step forward.
Before the man could speak, Loki's scepter glowed—and with a swift strike, the guard collapsed to the floor with a dull thud.
Gasps echoed across the room.
The speaker at the podium turned in confusion, just in time for Loki to stride forward, seize him by the throat, and slam him down in front of the stunned audience. The ornate hall, moments ago full of refined elegance, was now filled with fear.
Loki produced a strange, sleek device from within his suit jacket. The device whirred to life, a small mechanism spinning at its tip. Without hesitation, he drove it into the bald man's eye.
"Ahhh! AHHH!" The man screamed in agony, writhing on the ground as the device extracted biometric data.
The guests panicked. Screams erupted. The crowd began to flee in a frenzy of high heels, suits, and shattered wine glasses.
Loki stood slowly, smiling like a man savoring every second. He thrived on fear—and right now, he was bathing in it.
As he walked outside into the plaza, a shimmer of golden light began to envelop his form. His tuxedo morphed, transforming into elaborate Asgardian battle armor, with a horned helmet crowning his head. He extended his arms slightly, as if basking in divine revelation.
Then came the clones. One, two, three—then dozens. They emerged from shadows and between fleeing guests, illusions of Loki that herded the panicking people like sheep.
Two police vehicles screeched into the plaza, lights flashing. Loki lifted his scepter and fired a crackling bolt of blue energy. The cars exploded into flames, debris scattering across the cobbled streets.
Now standing at the center of chaos, Loki raised his voice and declared, "Kneel."
The crowd stared in terror, frozen.
"Kneel!" he bellowed again, his voice echoing with magic.
One man dropped to his knees. Then another. Then several more. Within moments, the entire plaza was filled with kneeling civilians, heads bowed.
Loki laughed, a twisted, delighted laugh that chilled the blood. "How good it feels to see you all return to your natural state. You see, this... this is your truth. In the beginning, mankind was born into obedience. Servitude is not shameful—it is instinctual. Freedom is a glittering illusion, dressing up the primal truth: you long to be ruled. You crave order, submission. You wear freedom like a costume, but you are not free. Not truly. And sooner or later... you will all bow."
His eyes glinted with cruel satisfaction.
It was an act of terror dressed as theater. And Loki reveled in it.
An elderly man stood up slowly, his back straight despite his age. He stared defiantly at the armored figure before him. "I will not submit to someone like you."
Loki turned his head slightly, smirking with arrogant pride. "You won't find someone like me again."
"There are countless madmen throughout history who thought the same," the old man replied calmly. "You're nothing new."
Loki's smile grew colder. "Then allow me to demonstrate just how unique I truly am." He raised his scepter and pointed it at the old man, blue energy gathering at its tip. "Watch closely, all of you—I'll make an example out of this one."
Suddenly—
Bang!
A man in a distinct, star-spangled uniform leapt forward, planting a round shield in front of the old man. The energy from Loki's scepter ricocheted off the vibranium shield and blasted Loki backwards.
"Aaagh!" Loki cried out in pain, crashing to the ground with a heavy thud.
Gasps and murmurs echoed among the crowd.
"It's Captain America! Captain America's here!" people cried out in awe and hope.
Steve Rogers stepped forward, firm and composed, shield still raised. "Last time I was in Germany," he said in a hard voice, "a man tried to trample freedom beneath his boots. We put a stop to him too."
Loki pushed himself up with a grunt, then laughed mockingly. "Captain America… Hawkeye told me all about you. A relic from a bygone age. A loser wrapped in a flag. And yet you stand there, preaching ideals to me?"
Steve's eyes narrowed. "You're not worth listening to."
With that, he charged forward.
Loki sneered. "Foolish." With a powerful swing of his scepter, he knocked Steve down, sending him tumbling across the marble floor.
Undeterred, Steve rolled back onto his feet and rushed in again. The two began to exchange blows—Steve's fighting style tight and disciplined, Loki's swift and magical. But it quickly became clear that Steve was at a disadvantage. Loki's divine strength and enchanted armor gave him the upper hand.
Above them, a S.H.I.E.L.D. quinjet hovered silently in the air. Inside, Natasha Romanoff observed the scene below through the glass with a frown.
"Loki has deployed too many clones," she muttered. "If we strike now, we could hit civilians."
Sitting beside her, William leaned back with a lazy smirk. "So hit from every direction. Force him to spread himself thin."
Natasha shot him a sharp look. "That would endanger innocent lives. It would also damage S.H.I.E.L.D.'s reputation. Do you not understand that?"
"My bad, Commander." William chuckled. "Lesson learned. Completely learned."
Before Natasha could respond, a familiar voice crackled through the speaker system of the jet.
"Ms. Romanoff. My dear secretary. Are you thrilled to see me again?"
They looked up. Through the cockpit glass, a streak of red and gold flashed across the sky. A sleek, metallic suit descended swiftly and landed with force—it was Iron Man, Tony Stark, arriving in style.
William's eyes glinted with mischief. "Well, well… Seems like the tin can's got his spark back. Excellent."
Natasha arched an eyebrow. "What did you say?"
William feigned innocence, smiling. "Didn't Iron Man have a bit of a breakdown recently? Seems like he's recovered. That's good." 'Wouldn't it be fun to toy with a broken man.'
Natasha scowled. "It's about time he got taken down a peg. He's far too arrogant."
"Oh, then maybe William should help knock him down again."
Her tone turned cold. "Don't say that name in front of me."
William's smile deepened, deliberately provocative. "Commander Romanoff seems to have quite a grudge against humanity's greatest enemy. But somehow, I doubt it's just because of the body count. Did something personal happen between you and William?"
"Mind your own business," she snapped, her voice tight with restrained anger. "Focus on your mission."
"Alright, alright… No need to get riled up, Commander." William raised his hands in mock surrender. "Forget I said anything."
But Natasha's fists were clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white.
"William… That monster," she muttered under her breath. "One day, I will carve him into pieces with my own hands."
*****
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