"Boo-hoo-hoo, my Mjolnir… boo-hoo—wait, this burger is amazing."
Inside the holding cell, Thor was crying into a pile of fast-food wrappers, his golden hair sticking to his face, his hands greasy as he wolfed down another burger the size of his fist.
At his feet, a mountain of empty wrappers had formed—like a shrine to cholesterol and despair.
Darren raised a brow.
So this is the God of Thunder?
He leaned against the wall and said, "Hey, don't take it so hard. Happens to the best of us. You know, can't lift it, doesn't respond to your touch. Comes with age. You're what—three thousand? Four?"
Thor sniffled, sauce smeared on his chin. "You don't understand! Mjolnir not responding means it no longer recognizes me as its master! I'm unworthy!"
He looked so heartbroken you'd think his girlfriend had eloped with a frost giant.
Darren shrugged. "Maybe you're overreacting. Could be your old man's just testing you. Odin doesn't strike me as the type to toss away his favorite son so easily. You're like… what's the term… his max-level save file. No one restarts after grinding that long."
Thor froze. "…Why does that sound like an insult?"
Before Darren could reply, a cold, mocking hum echoed through the air.
He turned—and realized someone else had appeared in the cell.
A tall figure draped in green and gold, with sharp features and eyes that glinted like daggers.
But the weird part?
None of the agents outside reacted. Not one.
Darren's eyes narrowed as he focused.
[NPC: Loki Odinson (Laufeyson)]
[Alias: God of Mischief]
[Favorability: 0]
[Profile: The God of Lies, the Master of Acting, the Nine Realms' Top Mage, and Infamous Crotch-Kicker.]
[Status: Illusion Concealment Active]
Great, Darren thought dryly. Another Norse god. Why not just bring the whole pantheon while we're at it?
Loki's form shimmered faintly—clearly hidden by magic. That explained why the guards couldn't see him.
Unfortunately for him, Darren's Fire-Eyed Vision pierced illusion like glass.
When Loki noticed Darren staring right at him, he didn't panic.
Impossible, he thought smugly. No one—not even Heimdall—can pierce my glamour so easily. The mortal must have just looked this way by coincidence.
He smirked, oozing arrogance, eyes narrowing in challenge.
And Darren, completely unimpressed, glared right back. "What are you staring at, boy?"
Loki froze mid-smirk. "..."
After a brief, tense silence, he sighed dramatically and let the illusion fade, revealing himself fully. "Not bad, mortal. You actually sensed me."
Thor, who'd been mid-bite into his seventeenth burger, suddenly froze. His eyes widened in disbelief and joy.
"Loki! My brother!"
He sprang up, clutching Loki's shoulders with greasy hands, leaving perfect fingerprints of sauce on the god's fine coat.
Loki's eye twitched. Every fiber of his being screamed to stab him—but he restrained himself. Barely.
"I had to come," Loki said gravely, lowering his head. His voice dropped an octave, filling with sorrow. "Things have… taken a dark turn."
As he spoke, his eyes shimmered with an almost impressive emotional range—grief, restraint, guilt, despair—all choreographed to perfection.
Darren had to admit, if acting were a stat, Loki's was maxed out.
Thor's expression turned anxious. "What happened? The Frost Giants—they've attacked, haven't they?"
Loki sighed heavily, shoulders sagging. "Yes. Asgard is at war. Father… he was too old to bear such pain—your exile, the threat of battle… he collapsed. He's gone, brother."
Thor froze. "What—?"
The burger fell from his hands, landing in the pile of wrappers with a sad plop.
"Odin… dead?" he whispered.
Loki's lips twitched upward ever so slightly. Inside, he was ecstatic. But on the surface, he looked like a grief-stricken son, trembling with loss.
He was just about to twist the knife—when a hand clapped down on his shoulder.
"Hey, pal," Darren said pleasantly. "You forget I exist, or are you just allergic to witnesses?"
The tension shattered instantly. Loki's eye twitched again, fury sparking beneath his calm mask.
"You dare interrupt divine conversation, mortal!?" he snarled.
Darren smiled thinly. "Divine? Bro, your name's Loki, don't expect me to buy this 'dead dad' storyline."
Loki didn't understand every word, but he caught the tone—and he didn't like it.
His fingers curled as he lunged, aiming to crush Darren's arm like twigs.
Except—nothing happened.
Darren didn't even flinch.
What? Loki's eyes widened. His strength—enhanced by his Jotun blood—was immense. No mortal should have withstood it.
But this man… this thing didn't move.
Loki recovered quickly, forcing a smile. "Impressive. No wonder you could see through my magic. But I'm not just an illusionist, mortal. I'm a sorcerer."
Twin blades shimmered into existence in his hands. The green aura along their edges pulsed with menace.
And then Loki lunged—daggers flashing, going straight for Darren's gut.
Darren blinked. "…So that's your 'magic,' huh? Backstabbing with knives?"
He grinned. "Classic battle technique."
WHAM!
"MUAY THAI WARNING!"
Darren's elbow came down like a sledgehammer.
Loki barely saw the movement before he was airborne—both daggers flying from his hands as he slammed into the wall hard enough to crater it.
The concrete cracked, spiderwebbing outward.
But to his credit, Loki was tough.
He staggered up, face pale but mostly intact. "You—filthy mortal—how dare—"
He didn't get to finish.
Darren lunged forward again, moving like a thunderbolt, and drove his knee straight into Loki's face.
CRACK!
The trickster god reeled backward, dazed.
Before he could vanish into another illusion, Darren caught his leg, swung him around like a sack of potatoes—and smashed him repeatedly into the floor.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Each impact shook the room, leaving craters in the reinforced concrete. Dust filled the air.
Thor took a cautious step forward… then back again. "I, uh… maybe he's got this handled."
He decided not to interfere. Loki, after all, had been punching bags since childhood. What was one more beating?
After a few dozen slams, Darren finally dropped the battered god in a heap.
He dusted off his hands, looked down at the motionless trickster, and snorted. "Gods, huh? Pathetic."
Thor blinked.
That line sounded… oddly familiar.
He muttered under his breath, "I'm starting to see a pattern here."