Contest of Champions

19

"Listen," Hela says the following morning, giving Sif and I evaluating gazes across the breakfast table. "This is the last day. This is where you will demonstrate a key skill to the Grandmaster. This isn't just to receive a score, it's also where you will receive your moniker, which will stick with you for the Contest and after, if one of you survives or does something significant enough to be remembered by." She pauses. "But mostly it's for the score."

Monikers are important, however. It's what the media uses when they track your progress over the course of the Contest. They also tend to stick to the champions like glue. It's partially the reason why Valkyrie went from Brunnhilde to, well, Valkyrie. And it's almost always tied to some skill you exhibit over the course of training, especially on the last day. Sometimes, they draw from your past life to help them in coming up with something creative, and sometimes, the name changes once the Contest begins. But their Asgardian names don't tend to be that creative. Take, for example, "Thor, god of thunder," or "Hela, goddess of death."

See what I mean? And when you compare that with "Iron Man" or "Scarlet Witch," you really start to see a difference. The Sanctum receives similar treatment in terms of names; Dr. Stephen Strange was literally just called Dr. Strange. It sounds like a moniker, but it isn't. Sometimes, more creative – but more insulting – names come from mentors. Tony Stark, for example, calls my brother "Pointbreak" and my sister "Hag."

"Do your best to impress them," Valkyrie advises. "Unless you want a rotten score."

"Show them what you can do," Thor emphasizes. "This is continuing with the creation of your identity for the Contest. When you are interviewed, this will be touched on there, as well. You'll be asked about your title."

Jane smiles at us. "Just be yourself," she says.

I don't think being myself is a very good strategy.

Once again, Sif and I don't interact on the elevator ride down into the training facility, splitting up as soon as we get there. We have a couple hours of training before the Children of Thanos and the Grandmaster are ready to score us. Then names are called, starting with Okoye from Wakanda. I will be last.

I see Veers looking back at me from her spot beside Yon-Rogg. He doesn't seem to notice her distractedness. I narrow my eyes at her before hearing Vulture call out, "Pete, you ready?"

Peter looks up like a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide. Ever since the first day, he has acted warily around the head trainer, for some strange reason. "Y-yes sir," he stammers.

"Good answer," Vulture says, gesturing to the door. "Off you go, Pete."

Peter gets up and scoots out the door, very nervous.

I direct my attention back to Veers and she's still looking at me. I glance away, see Sif chatting with Hogun quietly and Kasady back in his straitjacket. When I look back at her, Yon-Rogg has noticed her deviant gaze and places his hand on her shoulder. "Veers, focus," he says quietly.

She looks away and doesn't return her gaze to me.

I'm sort of glad. I need to focus on how, exactly, I am going to impress the Children of Thanos, but I'm not sure what I need to do to achieve that effect. Should I employ my magic? My skill with daggers? Or my talent with a spear?

"Veers!"

Veers gets up and leaves the room.

I'm still pondering when Sif is called. I'm next. I begin to wrack my brain frantically, trying to have a concrete plan for when I walk into that room. There are no do-overs if I mess up; there's no second chance here.

Magic. If I combine that with my skill with daggers, I might be able to get somewhere. Perhaps.

"Loki Odinson!"

And I'm up and striding forward, squaring my shoulders as I enter the room. My eyes scan over the weapons and the multitude of options before flitting over to the Black Order and the assistants assembled around the elaborately dressed man in the center, who is in charge of organizing the Contest.

The Collector.

He prefers the flamboyancy and the mysterious air his name gives him, although his real name is Taneleer Tivan. A dark blue stripe runs from his bottom lip and splits his chin, tapering off at the bottom. His hair is white and stands straight up, and his clothes are black with white and grey fur covering his back. He definitely stands out among the grim-faced and armed Children of Thanos and other members of the Black Order.

"Loki Odinson?" he confirms.

I nod.

"Begin," he says with a wave of his hand. A pink-skinned girl comes up to his side and offers him a drink, which he accepts.

I gaze up at the assembled viewers and notice the angry looks I'm getting from some of the Children. Then I remember that I volunteered for an Avenger, which does not make me look good to Thanos' lackeys. I had almost forgotten about that key piece of information. Combine that with the fact that I'm Asgardian, and I am already at a huge disadvantage.

Suddenly, I'm angry and my anger spurs me to act. I move across the room to the weapons stand and snatch up a spear. Taking a dagger in my off hand, I run through a simulation with both weapons, showcasing my mastery over them. I don't, however, summon any daggers through magic, as I've already been branded as a threat. I don't want straitjackets and constant security like Cletus Kasady is required to have.

It's not like it would do any good, anyway.

Just as I'm getting to the climax of the fight, where I'm constantly moving and weaving to avoid being "killed," I notice, through my peripheral vision, Corvus Glaive, the head of overseeing the Children of Thanos working with the Collector, turning away from me, saying something to Taneleer Tivan that can be summarized as, "There are always men like him."

I can't help myself. I ignore the simulated attackers and the buzzing of the program as one of them scores a kill. Instead, my attention zeroes in on Corvus Glaive.

My material form vanishes as I send a magic-generated avatar lunging forward, towards the viewers' booth. The Collector utters a gasp and his assistant shrieks, dropping her tray. The Children of Thanos bring up their weapons but they're too late.

Corvus Glaive gets stabbed by the spear.

At the second before impact, I turn the spear back into an apparition, so there is no damage. But the look of sheer astonishment and shock on his face cannot be changed, so I get to enjoy every moment of it.

Every moment.

And it takes several before the other Children and the Collector and yes, Corvus Glaive, figure out my trick.

For a moment, the avatar and I are both visible, and then I dissolve the illusion and it's just me, standing in the center of the room, looking at them.

One guy, with dark skin, takes off his sunglasses as if he can't believe what he just saw.

I stand there for a moment, staring at them defiantly, before I turn and leave. I drop one sentence over my shoulder as I exit.

"There are no men like me."