Contest of Champions

20

I don't know how Sif did, but my performance seems very...provoking, in retrospect. After all, I did attack the ones supposed to score me. I don't know how they are going to spin what just happened. I almost don't care, and that's what scares me.

Everyone is assembled in the main area when I step off the elevator. I assume an almost bored expression and take a seat on the sofa, ignoring Thor's inquiries into my training session until he eventually shakes his head and gives up. I remain silent and distant until supper is called and we all migrate into the dining room.

There is an air of eagerness mixed with apprehension filling the air and tainting the food as we eat. Only one day separates us from the opening of the Contest, and everyone knows it. I imagine Gamora's fingers intertwined with mine and feel the tension in my muscles become more fluid. I'm ready. I have to be.

But Veers lingering in the back of my mind makes me doubt that I'm telling the truth.

Valkyrie shoves her chair back, propping her boots up on the table and tipping her bottle back. After a long swig, she wipes her mouth with her gauntleted wrist and looks from Sif to me. "Are you two going to talk or what?"

"Or what," I respond, almost sullenly.

MJ, eyes on her lap because that's where her book is hidden, quips, "All right, loser."

I glower at her but the look is wasted because she's not even paying attention to me. Sif cocks her head and begins to speak, a slight smile playing on her lips. "Well, I ran through a difficult simulation and bested it, easily. I think I did fairly well."

Valkyrie and Hela nod, almost in sync. "And you?" Hela asks, looking at me.

"Oh, you know," I shrug, rolling my eyes. "The usual. I ran through a simulation and then decided on a whim to stab Corvus Glaive because, you know, why not?"

Hela actually looks confused, as does Thor. Valkyrie just raises an eyebrow and takes a drink from her bottle. Jane and Darcy look both horrified and shocked, and Flash snorts, like I'm lying. Erik appears concerned, his eyebrows knitted together. Incredulous, Sif looks at me, unable to speak. Ned falls from his chair and MJ turns a page.

I look around the table, waiting for someone to speak. I'm actually enjoying their horror and confusion at what I claim to have done. I have to fight the manic smile that wants to show itself on my lips but I can't stop the quick intake of breath that could be taken for a slightly unhinged laugh.

"You did what, exactly?" Hela asks.

Thor is shaking his head in consternation and worry. "Brother, what have you done?"

"I didn't kill him," I say, losing control over the smile and feeling it manifest itself on my lips. I must look somewhat deranged now, like Cletus Kasady. "He just thought I had, but only for a moment. I used magic."

Valkyrie raises her bottle to me. "Good boy."

Hela just shakes her head at me, but I see the glint in her eye that alludes to...pride? Is my sister proud of whatever I did? But there's something else in her eyes – calculation. What is she calculating? My chances now? My score?

Or something else?

"Why would you do that, Loki?" Jane asks me, and there is no pride in her voice or expression. Just bewildered sadness.

"Because," I say. "Why not?"

There's silence and Sif looks ticked off that everyone seems more concerned with me now than her. Her mood only worsens when Thor tips his head and says, "At least they won't forget you, brother."

As the time approaches for the advertising of the monikers and the scores, which will be anywhere from one to twelve, we move back to the main area and settle onto the sofas. The screen flickers on and District 1 is brought up first.

A photo of Okoye is shown, with "The General" written above her head and "9" below her. Heads nod, as if that score for her was expected. The next three also follow expectations, being part of what is termed the "Avenger pack," or the contenders from the more popular districts.

"Killmonger – 9."

"Black Widow – 10."

"Hawkeye – 8."

Then comes District 3. Cassie Lang is announced with the name of "Stature" and a score of "7," which causes some gasps of surprise from the prep teams, stylists, and Jane.

"Crossbones – 6."

"Agent 13 – 8."

"Spiderman – 7."

Peter Parker achieved a seven? I think about him tailing me on the ropes course. He deserves a seven.

"Night Nurse – 5."

"Wong – 8."

Told you that DimJumps get horrible monikers. Both frost giants receive scores of "4." Helen Cho is given a score of "3."

"Quicksilver – 7."

"Captain Marvel – 10."

Veers received a ten. I didn't expect anything less, but her moniker makes me think for a moment. Captain Marvel.

"Magnitron – 9."

Mantis is given a "4" while Dora Skirth receives a "3." Drax is labeled "Drax the Destroyer" in between them and is awarded a "6."

"Carnage – 10."

We exchange glances at Kasady's name. But it makes sense, him being a serial killer. I wonder, briefly, what he even showed the Collector as his skill. Did he kill someone in front of them? Or at least bite someone and critique the taste of their blood?

Hogun receives a "7" and his female counterpart is given a "5."

"Lady Sif – 8."

I'm next. What will the Children of Thanos have cooked up to punish me for my supposed attack on their brother? What will they call me? What score will they give me?

"Loki, God of Mischief – 11."

There's dead silence as everyone processes that I just got the highest score out of all of the contenders. That I beat the Avenger pack, beat the serial killer, beat everyone, is astonishing and unfathomable.

Sif actually starts to stand, her stance threatening, but Thor places his hand on her arm warningly as the screen fades to black. Everyone turns to look at me.

"I thought you said you stabbed one of Thanos' kids," MJ says.

"Fake stab," Flash corrects.

"I did," I say, shooting an irritated look at Flash.

"Maybe the others didn't like him," Ned suggests. "Like, if he fake stabbed Flash, I'd give him a round of applause."

"Seconded," MJ says, licking her finger and turning another page of her book.

"Don't forget," Erik interjects. "The Collector also has a say in the score and he isn't as closely affiliated with Thanos as the Children are. That might be why Loki received the score he did."

Hela rises. "Regardless, now our focus should be on preparing for the interviews tomorrow night. Go get some rest, Sif and Loki. You're going to need every bit of it that you can get."

And with that, we are dismissed.

And I got an eleven.