The night air held a chill, prompting the exhausted prince to pull his jacket tightly against his slender frame. His previous job had not gone according to plan, due to severe misinformation provided by his employer. He cursed the Midgardian trait of meddling with nature, as he lowered his aching body onto a bench.
The city amazed him - hundreds of mortals all around, and not a single one took heed of a battered god and ex war criminal, slumped, half asleep, on a park bench. He had come this way without thinking, finding himself mere blocks away from where his brother was currently residing… a response learned long ago, and frustratingly difficult to oppose. He sighed, leaning back and closing his eyes.
Loki felt it long before he heard its approach - a piercing blue light stabbing through his mind, clenching his chest in a wave of panic. He opened his eyes, staring straight ahead as footfalls drew closer from behind, his fingers white from the vice grip on his coat.
“Have you come to finish what remains of me?”