When the Wicked Does Not Fall

Loki sweeps back his hair and smiles.

This is the end.

The Avengers have failed - have fallen at his hands - and the world is his. His to rule, to change as he pleases. He can see it now: Earth's children dedicating their lives to him, bowing to him in worship. Those days are fast approaching. News of his supremacy will spread quickly and the entire world will know his name. They will scream it.

He stares out across the city from the top of the Stark tower - what remains of it, anyway. The place is trashed, nothing left intact, but the structure itself.

Below, the city burns. The Avengers still prowl the streets, trying to save what they can, but they are too slow. Ineffective. With Thor out of the picture, and the Hulk missing, they have no chance.

He laughs. Finally, the world is his. There is no one left to stand in his way.

Stark had told him, before he fell, that no one mourns the wicked. It is with that thought in mind that Loki finally turns to get back to work. Stark was right. But then, this time, it was not the wicked who fell. He doesn't need anyone to mourn him.

Instead, they will fear him, worship him. And the world will burn for him.