Loki x Reader - Monster [discontinued]

The Voice

1st Person P.O.V

Flashback

The power stone, the name is the perfect description of the assassin in my head. I haven't gotten rid of her, or maybe it's the other way around-but she gives me confidence and directions, two key elements when you're planning to kill anyone who tries to stop you.

The stone bounces on my chest, the chain holding it glowing with a now much darker shade of indigo. My uniform encases me as the necklace transforms itself into a sword similar to a Valkryie's, although mine is used for an entirely different reason. My once Y/E/C eyes now glow purple as the sinister smile returns to my face, inviting her to speak.

"Finally, I was getting bored of everybody's dull and "happy" faces," she whispers, sending a shiver down my spine, I feel as if I have known her my entire life, but yet strangers. My thoughts abruptly stop as my sharp eyes detect a fast figure charging towards me. Then the games begin. Her words become my power as I listen and follow her commands while a group of news reporters crowds me.

Screams erupt from an unknown male who thought he was being a hero by challenging me, he can now be a hero in Hel.

A growl escapes my lips as I violently spin to face the new reporters, my eyes piercing through their body's as a violet mist bellows through the wind and I strut.

The uniform doesn't disappear, it merely takes away the armor as I walk through the Red Sea of people until coming to a corner where nobody dares to follow me.

Finally, the suit disappears and I am left in Midgardian clothes those of which allow me to blend effortlessly among the humans. I run into the nearest building I could find, an old motel run by seniors who cast a disapproving look at my bruises, if only they knew where they came from.

Kicking one of the doors open from the back, I lock all doors as I lay on the bed. A feeling of restlessness tells me that I am close, too close to my goal.

I glance at the clock, 5 pm. My armor encases me. This has never happened before, my curiosity leads me outside where a crowd has grown. I walk closer and closer until I feel two hands placed upon my wrists. My blood boils, how dare they touch me. We begin our little dance, punches, and kicks filled with screams from the crowd, a simple yet disturbing sight.

I turn and am face to face with the white house, and the man whom I just murdered, the president's bodyguard. Suddenly, I hear her voice again and the smile returns.