Loki Misses the Asgardian Prison System

Chapter 196

Loki is still really, really bad at using the Wii.

He's gotten good at Wii Sports and Wii Sports Resort. He can do those games, to some degree. They involve real movements. They involve really doing things. The remote isn't there to be a controller in and of itself; it's just there to track his movements. It's his real actions that make the game what it is.

Super Mario Bros is a very different story. He has to use all the little buttons on this little piece of plastic to move this little itty bitty character on the screen. There's so much coordination that goes into it – so much thinking; so much planning, all concentrated in one place. He's not all too good at that sort of thing. He's half-convinced the Avengers have practiced video games every day of their life, so it comes naturally to them. He certainly can't say the same for himself.

Obviously, Thor hasn't grown up with video games, either. They have that in common. And though Thor has a fair amount more experience than him, he's not the greatest at this, either. It makes for a somewhat fair game, if only because they both suck so equally.

They start at the beginning of the game, and, after what must be an hour or so of playing, they're back to level one once more, attempting to recoup the many, many lives they've lost along the way. It was Tony who taught them, quite some time ago, that the first level is ideal for collecting lives. Not only are there extra-life mushroom power-ups, but it's so easy to collect all the coins and gain power-ups that way, too.

They're in the middle of the level when Thor mentions casually, "I told Father that you think we should get rid of the Tesseract."

Loki pauses.

His fingers hover just over the controller.

He takes a deep breath.

He does his best to quell any reaction he may have to the topic.

And then he speaks, as calmly and evenly as can be.

"I presume he refused," he says.

"He did," Thor says solemnly.

Loki nods once. "Thank you for telling me."

And that's that.

He did it. He passed. They had that conversation, and he was fine all the while. He showed no signs of discomfort. He showed no signs that anything was wrong. And now they can go back to playing their video game in peace.

But unfortunately, Thor's not done.

"I assume you had a reason to tell me to ask him," Thor says. "I know that you know much more about the Tesseract than I do myself. What is it that convinced you we must get rid of it?"

He did.

It's that simple, really. He convinced him. He wants it, so Loki wants nothing to do with it. Loki wants to ensure nobody that he loves has anything to do with it. But he can't say that. These are fears he can't put into words – fears Thor wouldn't understand; fears he'd have to elaborate on in ways he truly doesn't think he can.

So instead of answering, Loki shakes his head. "It doesn't matter," he says. "Forget that I mentioned it." If Odin won't listen – and of course he won't; why would he? – then it doesn't matter.

Thor is unconvinced. "Even Father agrees, if you know something that we should be aware of..."

"Father wouldn't believe a word I had to say," Loki says, and he grimaces as the word father leaves his lips. Odin isn't his father. He lost that title a long time ago.

"I'll admit that he doesn't quite trust you," Thor says, "but I talked to him about this. He wasn't going to get rid of the Tesseract without a reason, but he was open to hearing your reasoning. So if you know something..."