A/N: Hey, so for my readers on Wattpad, this is this the story I promised a while back. It took me a while, due to other stories higher on my list of priorities, but here it is at last.

As I admitted in the Wattpad version of this, I took a ton of inspiration from Ramifications, by M J Azilem, a fellow author here on . I based this strongly off their general plot and, when at a fork in the road, so to speak, I took it to the left rather than the right.

This is also based strongly on the proved theory that Loki was sent to Earth by Thanos, and that the sceptre he brought with him brought out his more violent emotions. That Loki simply wished to rule the Earth, not to destroy it. The directors and authors of Marvel said themselves, they've been planning to bring Thanos into the universe since the first Avengers movie, and, without a people to rule what's the point of ruling?

Anyway, I need only to do two more things and then you guys can start reading your hearts out.

First: I want to thank M J Azilem for their brilliant plot idea. You are brilliant, my friend.

Second: Disclaimer - I do not own Avenger, or any of its characters, etcetra, etcetra.

Enjoy!

He grunted as he pulled himself over the marble floor of the wretched tower, arms shaking madly from the effort. Shattered glass from the previously floor-to-ceiling windows cut into his palms, making his hands sticky with blood as he raced in vain to Tesseract.

Hot pain coursed through his body and the muscles in his arms burned fiercely, but he brushed it aside. He didn't have time to tend to his meagre wounds; he needed to get the Tesseract back into his possession, before the ridiculous Avengers could destroy it.

Had the penthouse grown in size since the Hulk had slammed him a hole into the floor?

So he allowed himself a moment to rest, so that he might catch his breath and scrape together all the strength he could muster from his worn essence. His muscles went slack, then taut again, and his abdomen ached painfully as he forced his feet flat on the floor. But as soon as his armored legs straightened, his left leg became suddenly aware of its broken bone and pain shot up, his knees buckling instantly.

He hit the floor with a undignified thump!, drawing more blood from his lip as he stifled a cry. He settled instead for a pained groan, coughing weakly to get his breath back. Lying on the shining, once lavish floor of Stark Tower for what seemed like an eternity, he waited for the pain to cease enough that he might move. It nearly had, until his mind was assaulted with a pain akin to several bullets to his skull, and Loki knew suddenly the Chitauri had been defeated.

The psychic connection to the Other violently severed, Loki was left fearful, weak, and in further agony. He let out a strangled cry, lacking the energy to clutch his head in an effort to lessen the pain.

The Other had lost; he had lost, ultimately. He knew what was coming now, what his enemies would do to him now that he'd failed his mission and smashed his promise of a world in which the Chitauri would have free rein. The Avengers would want to get him off-world and back to Asgard, where the All-Father would punish him the way he saw fit.

And the Other- oh, the Other.

The Other would make Loki pay his debt, but not before getting their own pound of flesh, just for their personal amusement. Then he would be dragged, defenseless and torn, to Thanos, and then he would pay his debts, in accordance to the direct orders of Thanos.

All that mattered was who got to him first.

He choked on the rising heat of bile in his throat, panic coiling in the pit of his derelict stomach.

If Loki dared to look on the bright side, and if there was indeed anything to look at: he didn't feel quite so heavy and clumsy, his vision was clearer, and his thoughts weren't much more jumbled than usual. His admittedly unnerving amount of loathing toward his brother had drained to a dull frustration about the shadow he had become in Asgard over the few thirteen hundred or so years of his life.

But the agony and the wounds from all the battles in this. . . war, left Loki decrepit, battered, exhausted, and above all, war-weary. Not to mention what he'd already accumulated from-

He shook his head to clear it, chasing off the memory of that bloodthirsty place.

If he was to be punished so harshly, he wanted at least to attempt escape. He tried once more to push the agony to the back of his mind. He succeeded enough that he could continue to drag himself toward the Tesseract, only now every inch of him screamed in agony, hot stabs of pain pulsating through him with each pull of his body. He almost wished for the psychic connection again, because at least it had dulled the pain to a tolerable degree.

He had only gotten as far as the steps leading up to the balcony, breathing heavily in exertion, before the unmistakable huff of the green beast rustled behind him. Loki turned, barely smothering a flinch when his broken ribs grated again each other and his heart sped up in fear. He looked up with an expression full of spite and eyes full of pleading, gulping down another threat of nausea.

Looking at each Avenger in turn, Loki brought up Stark's earlier offer of a drink, if it was all the same to the Man of Iron. The beast huffed with what Loki might have described as annoyance, had it been anyone else. Stark, simple for once, merely rolled his eyes.

Loki turned his head quickly, averting his eyes when a flinch forced its way onto his features. He could hear his name on Thor's lips, but whether it was more a question than a threat, the black spots dancing behind his eyelids made it hard for him to be certain.

His sight was failing, he realized, because he was losing the ability to breathe correctly. He couldn't bring himself to care as much as he felt ought have. In fact, he was grateful; at least if he was going to die, he would be unconscious for some of it. Thor called his name once again, somehow persistent, and this time Loki gave him an answer gave him answer consisting of a groan and wheezing gasps as his lungs refused him oxygen.

His throat swelled up, his heart pounding against his damaged ribs and his body seizing until he was nearly doubled over in his own lap. His eyes snapped open, and suddenly his vision returned as his body panicked. His arms gave out, leaving his face to smack onto the milky floor with a sickening crunch to his jaw. As he struggled to draw a breath, he was forced to resort to hacking as hot agony shot up his chest, eliciting a strangled gasp from his lips.

Before long he was lying on the hard floor, choking and unable to move so he could breathe properly. His hand gripped the floor weakly in a attempt to show his urgency, though he refused to admit to himself that was indeed his intent.

He cried out again, droplets of blood staining the pristine floor and leaving him with flaming lungs and a pounding head. Then he was being pulled up by strong, gentle arms and his ribs mercifully halted its grinding. He could breathe- at last- deeply and greedily, grateful for the fresh air.

It made him dizzy, the sudden availability of air; his eyelids were suddenly lead, even as he fought for consciousness. An abrupt ringing in his ears muted his hearing, and the world went silent. There was a muffled shout of: "Don't let him fall asleep!"

Someone shook him violently, drawing a groan from his split lips. White noise surrounded him, and he knew nothing.

A/N: I feel like it was kind of weak at the end, but I wasn't sure how to fix it, so please leave your ideas in your reviews. Thanks, guys!

I haven't published this consecutively in a long while, because of school and stuff, and it feels really weird, having all this free time now that it's out and I have no homework to worry about.

Here's my Fact of the Day for you guys.

Fact of the Day(5): Ironically, the original patent for the first fire hydrant was destroyed in a fire, but we know the inventor was Frederick Graff Sr.

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed, and I'll try to get the next chapter up soon, but I can't promise anything.

Goodbye and Farewell for now,

JamesHowlette1943