Mandela Effect: Prologue

Who are you and why do you have my face?

(A/N: Here's the final chapter of the prolouge! I hope you all enjoy! :D)

It wasn't the stench of rotten garbage that finally made Loki come to. Nor was it the rough concrete against his back, the rumbling of cars on the street outside of the alley that he found himself in, or the buzzing lightbulb on the wall that he was propped against.

If Loki had to guess, it was probably the hand gripping his shoulder and the knife pressed to his throat that had woken him up.

His first instinct was to curse loudly and colorfully, but he settled for raising his hands in a non-threatening gesture, keeping his chin against his chest so that all he could see were the black boots and pants that his attacker was wearing. Loki theorized that his spell had probably blown up again and ejected him from the tower. It was just his luck that some lowlife happen upon him while he was knocked out and decide to mug him.

'Oh gods,' he thought ruefully, 'Tony's never going to let me forget this.'

Then he raised his head to look at his assaulter and realized how truly and thoroughly he had fucked up.

Staring down at him was his own face, and yet it was completely alien. The eyes were too hard, almost brittle, and the cheeks were hollower. The hair was longer, reaching almost to the other man's shoulders, while he had decided to cut his short after several years of living at Avengers Tower. The other man was also in full Asgardian armor, identical to the kind that he would wear to battles, while Loki himself was still in the battered black jeans and a green tank top that he would always wear while experimenting.

The spell had obviously backfired horribly, sending Loki into an alternate dimension instead of allowing him to remotely view it. He could sense Seidr rolling off of his clone in waves and while the magic seemed crueler and sharper than his own, he could still sense an underlying curiosity and mischievousness that was all too familiar.

"What are you?" the other demanded, and even his voice was different from Loki's own. It was deeper and more gravely, like a roughly hewn obsidian blade.

"Well, I would think that would have been obvious," Loki replied, "if one were to go by the fact that I look exactly like you and I reek of interdimensional energy. I am you."

The other Loki regarded him with a contempt-filled sneer. "Yes, that's entirely possible, but you could just as easily be a Skrull, Chitauri, Dire Wraith, mutant, or any other manner of shapeshifter, although why any shapeshifter would chose to change my appearance in such a way is beyond me. What do you want here? This world is to be mine and I will not condone outsiders trampling on my claim."

Loki frowned. Without thinking, he reached for his magical stores. Every sorcerer's magic is a reflection of themselves and therefore entirely unique. Even a small spark would convince his attacker that he wasn't here to –

Where was his Seidr?

Loki stiffened in alarm and checked again. The well within him that was usually brimming with energy was now almost completely drained. By channeling the spell through an object that was meant to inhibit some of its effects and change its purpose, he must have increased the energy level needed to activate the spell, like trying to force a river through a drainage pipe. Therefore, the spell, which should have taken only about a tenth of his immense magical stores, had taken nearly all of them.

Loki let out a frustrated sigh. "I was experimenting with an interdimensional transport spell called the Mandala Effect. It seems that my modifications increased the activation energy of the spell, draining me dry. Believe me, I'm not here to trample on your," he paused, "claim."