Debugging Mischeif (lokixfemale!reader)

Chapter 7

While Loki and (y/n) were navigating their first tentative steps into a professional partnership, it had been a long month for the Avengers. And a very unsuccessful one.

The "Lucas Farrow" lead had been the first and greatest hope. It showed all the signs of a perfect hideout: remote fortified, and shadowy. They had made all precautions before they burst into the Brooklyn warehouse in full tactical gear, only to find a cavernous, mostly empty space. The only thing they recovered was a single, scorched circle on the concrete floor where a complex, self-consuming warding spell had been activated days prior.

Of course, it was fake. The Avengers didn't know that. Instead, they wasted an entire week tracing a chain of magical residues that led them across three states—only to realize they had been running in circles. Literally. The spell matrix closed on itself like a snake eating its own tail, a pointless loop crafted for no reason other than Loki's amusement.

From there, the hunt devolved into a maddening game of whack-a-mole with a ghost.

Thor took the lead, using Asgardian tech to seek the unique signature of Loki's seidr, which seemed to provide more chaos then help. Once, they got a powerful spike of magical energy near the Grand Canyon, only to find a charmed chipmunk (a chipmunk that, according to Bruce, seemed unusually intelligent and smug. Also, Clint swore that he heard it snicker). Another time, the device lead them to the British Library (Thor did note that Loki liked libraries). There they found a book on Norse mythology open and the drawn Loki was dancing on top of it.

To make matters worse, the next week came with a Loki now empowered with the concept of coding. Imagine starting your Monday with all your tech now speaking Old Norse rather than English. Bruce couldn't run his simulations; Natasha's encrypted files turned into unreadable runes; Clint discovered his Spotify playlist had been replaced with ominous chanting.

"Is this Hel's elevator music?" he muttered while trying—and failing—to skip the track.

For three days, they fought their own tech while Loki apparently sipped lattes behind the counter of a café. The only exception was Thor, who cheerfully announced that this was "much improved." Natasha finally restored their systems—not by cracking Loki's magic, but because Loki was getting bored of running the Tower's operating system like a saga recital and decided to return to his work on the digital world he was building with (y/n).

"We need something to change," Steve said, sipping aggressively at his coffee. Argumentatively, the technology outburst had impacted him the least. His sketchpad didn't run on an OS, and his shield didn't need a software update. However, it had raised a profound alarm in his head. Loki had them wrapped around his finger. All he needed to do was feed them bits and pieces and watch the show as they made a joke out of themselves. They were his personal theatre troupe, performing a farce of his design.

The others were scattered around the common area, the air thick with a shared, simmering frustration.

"Change into what? A monastic order?" Tony retorted from behind a holographic schematic of the Tower's newly restored—and heavily firewalled—systems. "Because that's the only way we're getting away from his digital voodoo. I can't believe he patched a backdoor through my own coffee maker. My coffee maker recited the Poetic Edda at 5 a.m."

"It was a surprisingly accurate rendition," Thor rumbled, though even his usual bluster was muted. He stared into the middle distance, his hammer resting by his feet. "But his mockery grows stale. These are the tricks of a bored child, not a warrior."

"A bored child who can turn your life into a bad fantasy novel with a few keystrokes," Clint muttered from the sofa, still looking traumatized. "I can't get that chanting out of my head."

Bruce, leaning against the kitchen island, finally spoke up, his voice quiet but cutting through the petty complaints. "That's the point, isn't it? He's not trying to defeat us. He's demonstrating that he can disrupt us anytime he wants. He's proving we're not hunting him; he's managing us."

The grim truth of that statement settled over the room.

It was Natasha who broke the silence, her voice calm and deliberate. She'd been quiet until now, observing. "Which is why we need to stop chasing the breadcrumbs he's leaving and look at the one place he hasn't drawn a single arrow toward. The one lead we dismissed out of hand because it was too obvious, too brazen."

Tony let out a groan, anticipating her. "Don't."

"The café," she said, ignoring him and looking at Steve. "The 'Loki Laufeyson' employment record. We thought it was a joke meant to distract us from the real trail, the 'Lucas Farrow' lead. But that lead was a bust, and every single thing since has been a deliberate, chaotic misdirection."

"It is an insult!" Thor protested, his voice gaining volume. "To suggest my brother, a prince of Asgard, would debase himself with such a... a mortal façade for so long. He would not suffer it."

"Or it's the one thing you would never believe he'd do," Natasha countered, her gaze unwavering. "Which, for a shapeshifter and the god of lies, makes it the most logical hiding place of all. He's not 'suffering' a façade, Thor. He's wearing one like a suit. And he's been wearing it while he sits in the heart of this city and watches us run in circles."

Steve set his mug down with a definitive clink. The sound drew everyone's attention. He looked tired. "We've chased the shadows. We've followed the magic. We've let him lead us by the nose from Arizona to England. We've been out-thought at every turn." He looked at Tony, then at Thor. "Natasha's right. We've been so busy looking for the complex scheme that we ignored the simple, audacious truth staring us in the face."

He stood up, his decision made. "We're out of other options. We go to the café. Not as a strike force," he added, seeing Tony's look. "We go in, we get coffee, we observe. We see if this 'Loki' is even there. And if she is... we look her in the eye and see what we find."

There was no enthusiastic agreement, only a collective, resigned acknowledgment. They were out of brilliant ideas. All that was left was the stupid, obvious one.

Tony sighed, running a hand over his face. "Fine. But if I'm going to a hipster coffee shop on a wild god chase, I'm expensing the pastries."

WC: 1113