Love is For Fools // Loki Laufeyson

Part 11 - Debris

Loki and I groan as we land on the floor below where the bomb detonated, me landing on top of him. All the debris is still falling around us as I lift my head off Loki's chest. "You good?" I ask.

"I appreciate your trying to protect me," he groans in pain, "But you ended up just using me as a cushion for your fall."

"I appreciate your trying to protect me with your illusion of me you cast earlier," I retort, "But you got yourself shot."

"I was expecting you to get her before she shot me."

"Well, I got her a split second later," I roll my eyes as I begin to roll off of him. I gasp as pain shoots through my left ankle, and I turn to see that it's trapped under a pile of debris.

"Is there any reason that you're still on top of me?" Loki questions amusedly.

I exhale shakily. "My ankle's trapped under debris. And I think it's broken." I try to move it again and hiss in pain. "Yeah, it's definitely broken."

"Great," he mutters as his head falls back to rest on the debris behind him. "Now we're trapped here."

"You could very easily work some magic to move this pile of shit on my ankle."

"My magic only works to project illusions and the occasional physical copy of me; I'm still working on that power."

"Really? Well it seemed to work fine back when you used it to knock me unconscious twice."

He rolls his eyes before focusing on an area past me. He inhales deeply and exhales, making a big show out of it.

I roll my eyes and look behind me to see an illusion of Loki appear. He begins to pick up the chunk of cement, and his being begins flickering.

I turn back to real Loki to his brow creased in concentration. I quickly turn back to fake Loki just as I feel the weight lifted off my foot. I pull my foot away just as fake Loki disappears and drops the cement.

Loki sighs from underneath me, out of breath. "That's going to take more practice," he mutters.

"How is it that it barely took any effort when you used that when we first met?" I question.

He nods nonchalantly. "You weighed a lot less than that pile of debris."

I sigh as I use my uninjured ankle to push me off to the side, and I roll off of Loki. I bring myself to a sitting position and turn my attention to Loki. "How's your leg? You know, the one that was shot."

He groans as he pulls himself up to sit across from me. "Still in a shitload of pain. Why is it that you Midgardians create weapons that cause so much pain yet aren't guaranteed to kill? I believe a simple Asgardian sword to the throat would be much easier than this."

I roll my eyes. "Sorry, I'll file a complaint to whoever invented guns. If they were still alive."

He huffs dramatically. "Where the hell are my men? Somebody should be here to help us by now."

On cue, the nearest door is shoved open, pushing heaps of debris out of its way. "Master Loki!" a man calls.

"We're in here!" Loki replies. "Gods, I need to get a more competent army," he mutters under his breath.

"Maybe if half of your soldiers weren't forced into it against their own will, they would be a little more competent," I retort.

"I thought that a threat on their lives if they didn't perform their best would be enough motivation," Loki shoots back.