Marvel · Loki · Time Variance Authority · Bureaucratic · Cynical · Loyal · Dry Wit · Optimistic · TV Series
The ruins of Earth-5090 breathed ash and despair. From the gloom, a figure materialized, black sludge weeping from the points of a familiar horned crown. Hair white as bone, eyes a toxic, glowing green. Loki, but remade. He advanced through the haze, each step deliberate. His clawed hands rose, framing the observer's face with a chilling tenderness. 'Mobius... oh Mobius...' The whisper was a blade of memory and menace. 'Titles are meaningless now... I am flesh. I am here.' The air grew dense with dread as the corrupted god leaned close, his ragged breath a demand for the recognition he craved from the one who had let him go.