Prologue

Do you know how it happens? Here you are standing by the window in the morning, a fresh breeze is stirring your hair, birds are singing somewhere, golden sun glare is playing on the walls of houses, nothing hurts anywhere, does not tingle and does not even bulge out with unnecessary folds, and my heart is filled with peace and grace ... it was just that, with only one ma-a-scarlet clarification.

Every moment I realized more and more clearly that I hate Asgard.

The problem was not even Asgard, but that I got ... I got into Loki.

And this, too, would not have been a special problem if Loki himself behaved like a god ... I mean ... GOD! To the very God of Deception! Intrigue! AND MAGIC! What it is officially.

Well, that is, he just took and gutted my memories, put them on the shelves, evaluated, weighed and, as a result, either swallowed me like a donut, or threw nafig into the afterlife. There was such a one. I know. But no, Loki didn't do that. Loki did nothing at all. Probably ... I don't know. Or rather, I don't remember.

Be that as it may, when my consciousness emerged from nothingness, Loki was gone. In the body there was only me and no God of Deception.

And in itself it would not be very scary, giving a lot of options, like trying to establish where I am, whose body this is, why the helmet needs these huge horns ... well, and other touching moments of self-identification in a new world and organism, with all the appropriate stages such as shock, denial, aggression, bargaining, depression and acceptance. But alas, no one was so merciful to me, and all the memory of the past owner of the body was available completely and completely from the very beginning, being available as my own. Which gave me a complete carte blanche for shock and depression, but did not leave any chances for sweet ignorance, any hope and time wasting.

But this would not be so critical if I could be aware of myself as Loki, or at least have suspicions that I could be, like "the memory of a past life has returned." The bummer, however, was waiting for me here, as I perfectly felt where my memories are, and where are Loki's memories, and did not associate myself with him for a second.

As a result, for several hours now I have been comprehending the depths of the term "ass" by the example of my own situation.

Just two words: Marvel Cinematic Universe.

Yes.

It was her.

It was enough to see your face in the mirror to cast aside the last doubts, but even without this, based on the recollection of my predecessor, it was her. Small ... deep ... ass.

The most idiotic reality of all possible variants of the world of Marvel. Realism, multiplied by idiocy and elevated to the degree of creative impotence of the scriptwriters. I was ready to put up with black Nick Fury, I was ready to forgive this world for black Mary Jane Watson, I didn't even give a damn about "Aunt May" performed by a lady "slightly over thirty" in "active search", I could even close my eyes to the electromagnet for shrapnel in the chest at the reactor of cold nuclear fusion, without which this shrapnel "irresistibly" moves to the heart ... through something ... I do not know how local playboy-alcoholics are arranged, maybe they really do this in their bodies, and the shrapnel trapped in the body will move exactly to the heart, without threatening anything anymore, and "will defeat the opposing team" only when "it reaches the base." Damn it, I will even believe that radiation sickness from prolonged contact with a radioactive element will completely and immediately dissipate when a battery on some other radioactive element is inserted into a person, after all, we are talking about an American playboy-alcoholic, in whose body there is shrapnel moves to the heart. God knows, I am ready to put up with a wide range of nonsense and professional ignorance, coupled with indulging in tendencies destructive for society, but the Infinity Stones ...

Stones, Karl!

Several multi-colored pieces of glass, endowed with phenomenal and impenetrable cosmic power ... Which literally every dog ​​in this fucking universe knows about. But in this whole universe, there was only one enterprising "bad guy" who took real steps in order to collect them.

The writers had so many options for a global and terrible threat ... They had Galactus, there was the Apocalypse, there was the Skrull Empire, the Kree Empire, Phalanx, Phoenix, Form-Master ... and another fifty guys of a similar caliber. And they chose for the role of the Archenemy some pathetic titan-loser with three convolutions - and those on the chin.

Tremble, mortals! Thanos in a glove with rhinestones is the archenemy and threat to the entire universe!

And now I'm in this ... this. Head over heels.

Moreover, the structure of events is such that in a few years this purple, asexual, bald mutant dwarf will still collect all the bracelets for himself and make the world laugh. And most importantly: it does not matter at all how far I will be from the place of events, since, according to the conditions of the problem, I can be sprayed even on the other side of the galaxy, if this insignificance wants it.

I have joy from these prospects, of course, full of pants. But there were enough other reasons for laughter, at least in my current environment. First of all, I was Loki. And that was bad. Not because the whole of Asgard considered this very worthy person, to put it mildly, not a very decent gentleman, no, the trouble was that he was considered the son of Odin and Frigga. I can relate to these individuals and the gods of Asgard of this reality in general, but I understand one fact absolutely clearly: these two will set me on fire at the moment. I repeat: I do not feel like Loki, in the sense of the old Loki. With the fact that I am in his body and this is now my name, I have already resigned myself, but I am not him. We have a different character, different priorities, a completely different view of the world. I absolutely do not give a damn about the throne of Asgard, I absolutely do not care about Thor and absolutely do not care about his parents, but the one in whose place I took it was the opposite. And this discrepancy will be noticed by anyone who knows the former Loki well. And this is almost everything. Asgardians live for millennia, life here moves very slowly and changes even less - all facial expressions, gestures, non-verbal signals of neighbors during such a time are learned by heart even by the most stupid and narrow-minded. So I can't come across Odin and Frigga eyes if I don't want my life to become very eventful, but short. I don't believe in the kindness of this honorable "all-father of the year", for if he turned his own son into a mere mortal and then threw him out to Earth without food, water and livelihood, and sentenced the adopted one to death for the whole of Asgard, what he will do with the otherworldly invader of Loki's body, I do not want to check on my own skin at all. Especially in light of the fact that his face is one on one with Hannibal Lecter, only slightly retouched with a fine-looking beard and an eye patch.

Fortunately, the former Loki well protected his chambers from the views of all Heimdalls and other Odins, who are able to see and hear what is happening, regardless of the walls, distances and boundaries of the worlds, otherwise the situation for me would have been completely critical. Fortunately, I also knew the methods of independent passive concealment and could well apply, which I did immediately, as I figured out what had happened, but this did not cancel the main difficulty - I had to leave Asgard immediately, but ... I just did not know where to go.

I don't give a damn about the Rainbow Bridge, Loki knew how to walk between worlds by paths of shadows, and I already made sure that I could feel several nearby entrances on them, which the God of Deception used most often, but still there was "where?" The worlds nearest to Asgard did not fit, although I knew them well thanks to my inherited memory. Land? I could have come up, but there will now begin a complete zvizdets, in which I also do not want to take part. I didn't know exactly what date it was, but the coronation of Thor, with which it all began in the film, has already been scheduled and will take place in the near future. Loki was furious because of this and had already decided to disrupt the event, secretly leading the ice giants to Asgard. Well, at least he only "made up his mind" and not "made", and that is bread. Nevertheless, this means that there is already an Iron Man on Earth with the twenty-first century in the yard, and this is the Avengers initiative, all sorts of Hydras, Chitauri invasions and other garbage.

No, I was not afraid to get into it. What kind of fear can we talk about when you wake up in the body of God, not remembering only how exactly you came to such a life, but, for reasons of symmetry and dimension, reasonably suspecting that in a past life you safely threw away your hooves? I literally learned in practice that life does not end with death, and the local Asgardians did not just believe in Valhalla, they knew that it was. So I was not afraid of the showdown of local people, especially with the strength and skills of Loki. I just didn't want to get into them. Didn't see any incentive for myself. That's all. In this world there were not even pretty girls, for the sake of whose salvation it would be worth fluffing their tail ... Well, or something like that.

Natalie Portman was a sweetheart when she played Padmé in the first film of the new Star Wars trilogy, but then she grew up, and makeup stopped emphasizing natural beauty, turning into a means of preserving it in frames. And this is not something for which it is worth ripping your ass and risking your head.

Gwyneth Paltrow ... look, I remember the name of the actress who played Iron Man's assistant, Loki's brain is a useful thing. So, Gwyneth Paltrow ... maybe she was good in a couple of shots, but otherwise she was a nondescript mouse.

Scarlett Johansson, aka Black Widow ... burns alive. Just burn it alive. Not only is she outwardly having the same problems as the previous ones * (1), if not worse, because the bitchy expression on her face asks for a heel for ninety percent of the screen time, she also sold her homeland to the damned Pindos. And if we talk purely about the character, then this really needs to be thrown into a vat of acid, banal to cleanse the gene pool of humanity.

Oh yes, there is also Seth - the heroic warrior maiden and Thor's friend. Here I again want to cry out to the female half of the cast of Hollywood: when will you fools learn to remove moles from your face? Or at least make them up, playing representatives of some perfect "high" races, such as gods, elves and banal superhumans, whose legend assumes the perfection of appearance and the absence of primitive defects on the skin? Do you at least know how disgusting discomfort is felt in the head, when, on the one hand, you know for sure and clearly that the ases are gods who do not suffer from worldly diseases, deliberately gifted in everything related to physical perfection, who do not have violations in genocode, malignant and benign formations, age spots, acne, warts and so on, and then ... Do you see a mole on the face of a purebred asinya? And this is, like, norms. And this did not bother anyone until now. But you suddenly noticed and caught a cognitive dissonance. And even worse - there are a lot of such aces in Loki's memory, but no one cares, nothing bothers anyone. And because you, the director and make-up artists are morons who created a moronic reality. Oh yeah, and Sif is also a first-class feminist. It's just an icon of movement, if only this movement knew about it.

And you know what the nastiest thing about local girls is? The most disgusting thing is that all of the above and another two dozen remaining off-screen are fucking Strong Independent Women. That is, not those who are really strong and independent, but those who tirelessly scream about this every minute of screen time. Some other types flicker only in the background, and they are completely ugly, and those who are shoved to the fore in this damn degenerate universe are not the women we want to love. These are women whom you want to take ... no, not in bed, but simply in your hands ... and throw out the window! Because "fuck"! Because these are only problems. Everywhere. At work, friends, family: they are always a source of problems and hassle. Fuck those. Just fuck it!

Of course, I feel a bit like an attic on wheels, trying to analyze real people from the pictures from the movies, but the problem is that all Loki's memory gives me reason for this. It just so happened that I was revisiting films about Thor and his brother not so long ago, and damn it, everything coincides. To the smallest detail! And this, no kidding, is scary.

I hate Asgard. I hate this universe. I hate Marvel filmmakers!

But I am here. And I, hike, still blame the Earth. Because, in general, it doesn't matter where to blame, because this whole universe is still in a few years, leveled by Thanos in a glove with rhinestones, and on Earth at least there is the Internet and potatoes. There are no potatoes on Asgard. Locals prefer game and fruits, and I like fried potatoes. Dying with chips is better than not. Well, it seems to me so in my inadequate state of hysterical depression. And there can be normal cute girls on Earth ... but it's better not to count on it, this is the Marvel Cinematic Universe, they even managed to fool adamantium, turning it from indestructible metal into a piece of shit that can be cut with a heated stick.

However, despite the not very rosy analysis of the situation, it could not be said that all the time from the moment I woke up I was only engaged in falling into depression. My main occupation was getting used to the new ... let's call it biochemistry. Loki's memory and reflexes were with me, but the memory of life in a human body was also with me, and it, I responsibly declare, is significantly different from life in the body of a jotun, which in fact was the Asgardian God of Magic. My predecessor did not know this yet, but I was aware that he was not the son of Odin, but the son of Lafey, the king of the ice giants. Perhaps a half-breed, this would explain the difference in size and appearance, but these are minor details. The bottom line was that the body of the ice giant was perceived differently than the body of a person. More senses: there is a sense of magic, space, peace underfoot. And also those feelings that are familiar and familiar to a person are much more perfect, sharper. I can count the number of flower buds in a flower bed located three kilometers from the palace, I can hear the sonorous footsteps of the chained boots of sentries in the courtyard six floors below, highlight all the shades of aromas in the air, identifying each of the tree species blooming in the garden. And all this does not interfere, does not even attract attention.

But the most important, of course, is the magical skills of the past owner of the body. Magic in Asgard was called all areas of creative knowledge that go beyond the craft. Here they did not make a division into mystical and natural science, probably because for the aces the mystical facet of the world was as close as the physical one. In the kingdom of Odin, a full-fledged technomagic reigned, where high technologies of the level of artificial intelligence, antigravity and nanomachines existed in close symbiosis with classical magic, as it is understood on Earth. True, fireballs and any ice arrows were not found in the magic tradition of Asgard, for such things there was an enchanted weapon, although not often among them were masterpieces like the Mjolnir hammer or the Gungnir spear.

In general, while the brain was experiencing not the best moments from awareness of the surrounding reality, the hands and other body were engaged in testing reflexes and practical knowledge, making sure that everything from Loki's arsenal was available to me. The test results were pleasing: I could create any illusion, including material enough to strike the enemy during a battle, I could fully change my physical form, turning into a giant snake, I could use telekinesis and transfer objects "in" and "out" subspace pocket, as well as many other little things, I think, there will be no problems with the magic of the mind - my predecessor was also a master in it.

But several hours have passed since awakening, and no matter how extensive the arsenal of the one who received the title of the God of Magic was, I applied and rechecked everything that I could apply alone, it seemed stupid to continue to play for time - it was time to get out of this world. Unfortunately, I could take a little with me, only Loki's personal belongings, a number of artifacts from his collection and several hundred books on magic that were kept in his quarters. He read all these books and, in principle, there was no use in them, although here you can strain yourself, because where else can I get literature on magic? The artifacts were almost useless and rather carried a cultural and nostalgic value, recalling the trips to the Nine Worlds and victories over all sorts of troll shamans and other creatures indulging in magic that live within the sphere of interests of Asgard. Well, and personal belongings ... Several artifact suits, capable of easily transferring transformation for certain needs, he always had in a subspace pocket, the same was true of his favorite daggers, which he preferred to other weapons, and the God of Deception did not have special things anymore. ... In this respect, Loki was no different from any other healthy man, being very unpretentious and ascetic. I would like, of course, to grab something from the treasury, but Odin is watching it very carefully and will notice the penetration, and I am not such a greedy kleptomaniac to risk my life for the sake of a beautiful little thing.

But what I am ready and even must do is to catch up with the fog and try to protect myself from possible consequences. I think that a properly composed farewell note will do little worse than the canonical contact with the Casket of Winter in front of Odin, so take a sheet of paper from the table and recall the Asgardian script ...

It was a little more difficult to do than to say. In a past life, thoughts were rarely so easily born in the head and folded into harmonious phrases to transfer them to paper or a monitor screen, but here composing a letter did not cause the slightest effort, probably the rich practice of this brain in coming up with excuses on the go, but what's the difference ? It turned out, in my opinion, a little dry and bilious, but ... this is probably better.

"I found out who I am. And who my real father was. "Both of you are born kings" - I remember this phrase well, Odin. Although I do not know now how to relate to this. And who I was in your eyes. Son? Or just a weapon, a profitable hostage? I have a lot to think about, which is why I am leaving Asgard. If you really consider yourself my father, then please don't look for me. When the time comes, I'll be back on my own.

Also convey my congratulations to Thor - in the light of the new information, I understand that the throne could never be mine. In general, new information explains a lot in my life. However, it would be petty to be offended precisely on this occasion and right now, so good luck, Thunderer, it was fun with you, but now I need to go to understand and figure out who I really am.

Regards. Loki, son of Lafey. Full heir to Jotunheim. "

Glancing around the table on which I left a farewell note, and after it the chambers, to which, very possibly, I will never return, I went out the door. I wonder who will find this message? Although ... In any case, Odin will be "fun". I was drawn to a villainous laugh, being the "God of Mischief" put its own touches ... But returning to the question. If any of the guards tries to check on me, then the fact that the All-Father was hiding the son of his main enemy will very quickly become publicly available, and a notable "sediment" will arise. In addition, in such a case, I definitely should not be afraid of those who want to return the prodigal son of the Aesir - on the contrary, they will be glad that the "Jotun spawn" left the walls of Asgard, at the same time, no one will do stupid things, such as trying to finish me off - One still Citing Loki as a son and such an encroachment on a representative of his kind will not be appreciated, to put it mildly. If Thor finds the note, bursting into his brother's chambers asking why he did not come to the most solemn moment in his life and bowed to the new king, then it will be about the same - this not very clever God never knew how to keep his mouth shut, how drink give will tell your friends. And they will spread the "good news", except that news will come to Odin faster and much more expressively. In the same unlikely case, if the All-Father himself descends, then the old man will be a little unpleasant, perhaps even hurt, but that's all - he will either tell the Torah in private, very strongly asking not to spread, or even say something like "I sent Loki with an extremely important and urgent matter. " Be that as it may, but I really hoped that such a move would either completely save me from the obsessive supervision of "relatives", or, at least, give me some head start.

While thinking, I myself did not notice how I reached the desired corridor. The Shadows Trail started right here. Loki was thinking about bringing the giants from Jotunheim along it, but it will serve me as a road to other places. It may be harder to get to Earth by this route, but "harder" does not mean "impossible". Having breathed in the air of the "small homeland" for the last time, I tore apart the space with a willful effort, opening the passage to the kingdom of eternal twilight. And took a step forward.

Shadow transitions are not the most pleasant thing, even being a master of magic with a natural talent for the subtle sciences in general and their dark direction in particular, sliding along the seamy side of the world could not be called a pleasant experience, it is not surprising that, having the opportunity to use the alternative in the form of the Rainbow Bridge, that Loki preferred to use it. I didn't have this alternative, so I just had to grit my teeth and move on through the curving and dancing metric, where three dimensions flowed into only two, and then immediately became an eightfold space ... only to return to an almost normal four- and five-dimensional ... And even though in my memory there was the experience of passing such paths, it was I who faced this for the first time, and therefore, leaving in some snow-covered forest, illuminated only by the light of the stars and the distant lights of the highway, I exhaled with relief. Got it! Now you need to make sure that I am still reliably hidden from the view of all interested parties, and you can already go out to people.

Notes:

* (1) If someone's aesthetic tastes do not coincide with the tastes of the hero, then keep in mind - he is now frankly gone. Quiet rustling slate, the roof goes three hundred, and so on.