Mandela Effect: Prologue

Return of the Trickster

Without further ado, Tony's repulsors activated, casting a blue glow in the dark as they propelled him into the sky a short distance behind Thor, whose lightning was crackling around him in anticipation.

They quickly circled the statue, the oxidized metal blurring past them as they approached the top of the structure. As they flew, possibility and theories traveled at a similar speed through Tony's mind.

Maybe a machine? No, Tony, you know machines. No machine could do this. Alien? Possibly. Mutant? Probably. Maybe that new fellow that popped up in Greenwich Village. What was his name? Dr. Weird... Dr. Odd.... Strange! Could be him. He did use some weird green energy against those supposed time travelers the other month. Although, it would have been nice I he had given us a heads up that he was going to be-

His thoughts came to a screeching halt and he nearly fell out of the sky in surprise as the figure on the torch came into view. There, standing on the platform with his eyes glued to them in apprehension, was the Trickster himself.

A faint green aura surrounded Loki, leaving no room to doubt that the symbol in the sky was his work. Thor landed a few feet from him, hooking his hammer onto his belt and approaching Loki with his arms wide open before Tony could warn him to stay back.

"Brother! What are you doing here?" he exclaimed, an exuberant grin overtaking his features.

Loki held out his hands in warning, hastily trying to back away from Thor. "Brother, no! Don't come any-" Faster than any of them could react, a bolt of green energy shot from the aura surrounding the god of mischief, throwing Thor into the railing and denting it under his weight. The normally invincible god was passed out cold, a large scorch mark marring his once-clean chest plate.

"...closer," Loki finished, sighing in resignation at the oaf's foolishness. Apprehension once again took over his features as he looked up at the still-hovering man of iron. "I hope that you can see that that was completely his doing."

Tony didn't reply as he scanned Thor for vital signs. Once he was certain that the man wasn't in immediate danger of dying from him own stupidity, he turned his gaze, as well as his repulsors, towards the silver-tongued god.

"I would say that it's good to see you again, Reindeer Games, but then I'd be lying. Why are you here and what's with the light show?" Tony asked, keeping an eye out for the quin jet. Might as well try to get some answers out of him before Barton pumps him full of arrows.

Loki held his hands up in a peace-making gesture. "I'm just trying to get home, Tony. I do not have the time to explain. Simply let me finish my spell and I will be out of your hair."

Keeping one repulsor focused on the lie smith, he held the other one up in a halting gesture. "Whoa, hold on, Prancer. Since when have we been on a first-name basis?" he asked, gesturing between them. "Also, what do you mean 'trying to get home'? Can't you just have Scotti beam you up?"

Loki's expression took on a slightly pained quality as his eyebrows drew together in a frown. His mouth opened in preparation to speak, but before he could answer Tony's questions, the jet finally arrived.

It rose up out of the dark so silently that Tony reflected that his modifications to the stealth tech might have been a bit too good. It was as silent as an owl, as silent as death. The open cargo bay door came into view and there, feet planted in the opening, braced against the wind, stood Clint. An arrow was already knocked on the string of his bow as he drew it smoothly back. His thumb touched his cheek as he stared down his arrow. His eyes locked with Loki's and a moment stretched into a second, a minute, an hour, a year as the trickster's expression cycled from shock to fear to pain to worry, finally settling on something that could only be called grief. Clint let the arrow fly.