Fic: Worlds of Chaos (Loki & AtS) Chap. 8
Jul. 29th, 2017 02:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bookishwench8. Wolfram & Hart
“What are you doing here?”
The voice might be new, but the tone of loathing and distrust behind it was not. Loki recognized it the moment the being opened its mouth.
“Illyria,” he said, painting on a charming smile. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“I asked you a question, Asgardian,” Illyria responded, using what had once been the mouth of a human woman. “What is your purpose with the Wolf, Ram, and Hart?”
The office workers wisely scurried out of their way. They had managed to survive this long working for the evil law firm, and most of them wanted to survive a bit longer or at the very least not meet their end from whatever was about to happen.
“My purpose is my own,” he said carefully. “It has nothing whatsoever to do with you, Illyria. Also, it turns out I am a Jotun, not an Asgardian.”
He shifted to his birth form seamlessly, and Illyria merely nodded, accessing him.
“It is a better color on you, at any rate,” she said mirthlessly.
“Yes, well, you would be rather prejudiced in that regard considering your current form,” he said, noting that another worker had caught sight of him, shrieked, and run full tilt to the elevator, diving through the open doors. Loki was not entirely certain that there had been an elevator present on the other side. Ah well.
“I find this shell satisfactory in most regards, though claustrophobically small,” Illyria said, glancing down at the odd mixture of human and her own form, or at least part of it.
“And I find this one rather chilly,” Loki said, shifting back to the form he usually wore. “How did you come to be here?”
“There are still some who remember me and worship,” she said. “And you?”
“Chaos abounds in all worlds at all times, Illyria,” he said.
She gave a curt nod of agreement before saying, “I would prefer it if you did not murder any of my acolytes without my permission.”
“And by ‘prefer,’ I take it you mean there could be a war as a result?” Loki asked conversationally.
“Depending upon which one,” Illyria said. “For example, I have no use for the one called Eve. Disposing of her might be overlooked. But the others are…”
She seemed to be searching for a word.
“Amusing?” Loki ventured.
“Yes. That is an adequate description. No more than that,” she said, and he knew she was lying, which made him feel a good deal more comfortable.
He disliked Wolfram & Hart. They existed in many dimensions, though not so many as the Senior Partners liked to advertise, and he had bumped into them before. There was a sort of joylessness about them, the idea that all the marvelous mayhem they caused was merely, well, paperwork. If one was going to try to destroy all goodness in the universe, they could at least enjoy it more. Instead, they were all much like the woman Gwen in Files and Records, all data and numbers and statistics, devoid of passion and highly robotic, but with a very few exceptions.
One of those exceptions was a certain Lindsey McDonald, which was part of why Loki was there. One really shouldn’t go doodling tattoos all over oneself without first checking whether any of them happen to place the bearer under the thumb of the god of chaos, and Lindsey had neglected to be cautious in his haste. The man had switched sides so many times he resembled a tennis ball, but then that was neither here nor there. Loki liked to check on his property, and Lindsey might make a very good pawn.
“Great shades of Elvis, what in Tarkna are you doing here!” shouted a man in a colorful suit, who also happened to be green. He had obvious just come out of his office and run smack into the confrontation occurring.
Loki grinned in a way that usually sent mortals running, but this one just held his gaze, putting his hands on his hips and giving him a stern glare.
“Nu-uh, no way, Jose,” he said firmly. “You don’t have to sing one note for me to read you, and you are trouble with a capital everything. I don’t even want to know what’s going on in that head of yours, and… okay, who’s the guy with the floating crystal balls, because if ever someone needed a recording contract, he’s at the top of the list. Glam rock might be making a comeback next fall.”
“You can read minds?” Loki said, already knowing the answer.
“More or less. Auras, which is kind of the same thing only less linear,” he said. “Still, shoo! We’re full up on dastardly intents around here.”
“Lorne,” Illyria said, “this is Loki. He is a god, not unlike me, though certainly less powerful.”
“Debatable,” he said, clenching his teeth as he smiled.
“Oh,” Lorne said, looking distinctly less sure of himself. “Look, it’s been a long day and I need a slug of cappuccino or I’m going to go top over teakettle here. I’m at the end of my tether, so unless something horrific happens, I never saw you. Illyria, just try to keep him from imploding the building, okay?”
“For the moment,” Loki said, grinning more widely.
“Uh-huh,” Lorne said. “’kay, uh, I’m going to the break room. Possibly forever.”
The green man walked off in the opposite direction, muttering to himself about demons and monsters and what he was going to do if someone had taken the last biscotti.
“Pylean,” Illyria said by way of explanation.
“Not like any Pylean I’ve met,” Loki said as fragments of what he recognized as a tune by the Bee-Gees wafted from the break room.”
“True,” Illyria said, turning her attention back to Loki. “Do you intend to destroy us?”
“Not at the moment,” he said. “I am merely checking on one of my holdings and, while I the opportunity presented itself, I thought I would drop in on an old friend.”
“We were never friends,” Illyria said.
“I did not mean you,” he said, turning on his heel and heading towards one of the offices.
“So, Charlie, we on for beers and the match down at Joe’s Tavern tonight?” said a voice.
“I don’t do soccer,” said another.
“It’s not soccer! It’s bloody football! You lot just don’t use the proper name and… what?”
“There’s a really white dude standing in the door behind you, grinning like a crazy man and wearing one very weird-ass hat,” said the man sitting behind the desk.
“Does it have a pair of ridiculous-looking gold goat horns?” the other man said, still not having turned around.
“They’d be right,” the other replied.
“Ha! Loki!” he said, hopping to his feet and smiling widely and gripping Loki’s hand. “What’s it been? Six, no, seven decades!”
“Indeed, Spike,” Loki said. “And where is our lovely Drusilla?”
Loki noted with some pleasure that the word “our” made Spike grimace slightly.
“We’ve come to a parting of the ways,” Spike said.
“Too bad,” Loki said. “She was always highly entertaining, not to mention unpredictable in all the very best ways.”
Spike grudgingly nodded, then looked concerned.
“You here to kill anyone?” he asked seriously.
“No, just stopping by,” Loki said.
“Oh, well, that’s fine then,” Spike said, grinning again.
“I don’t remember you having such scruples before,” Loki said.
“Didn’t have a soul before, either,” Spike said.
Loki blinked, then laughed. “My, you have been busy, haven’t you?”
“Times change,” Spike said. “Oh, right, Charles Gunn, meet Loki, god of chaos and general purveyor of mischief.”
“Uh, pleasure?” he said uncertainly.
“Likewise,” Loki said.
“The Loki?” he whispered to Spike, giving Loki a suspicious look.
“Probably the one you’re thinking of, yeah,” Spike said. “He knew Dru pretty well.”
“Considering your ex, that doesn’t really surprise me,” Gunn said.
“You want to go with us to get beers and watch Manchester U on the telly at the pub on the corner? They’ve actually got decent chips,” Spike said to Loki.
Loki considered for a moment, then shrugged.
“Why not? I’ve nothing better to do at the moment,” he said.
“Oh, but you will. I have a brilliant idea for someone you can torture into next Tuesday with your magic,” Spike said. “I don’t believe you’ve ever met dear Angel, the very soul of perpetual torment and self-loathing, have you?”
“I’ve not had the pleasure yet,” Loki said as they turned to walk from the office.
“Oh, this might just be the best day ever,” Spike said, laughing.
Gunn looked after them with uncertainty written large across his features before he took a deep breath and followed behind, muttering, “Already sold my soul for a truck once. Might as well have drinks and watch soccer with Loki.”
“It’s called football!” yelled Spike from the hallway.
The next morning, Loki was gone, but a highly confused Angel awoke to find his apartment at Wolfram & Hart turned topsy-turvy despite never having awakened. His books had been shelved out of order, his weapons all had dull blades, and most notably, every last piece of clothing he owned was now a bright emerald green.
“Spike!” he yelled, striding angrily down the hallway, not realizing he also had an enormous bald patch on the back of his head.
“What are you doing here?”
The voice might be new, but the tone of loathing and distrust behind it was not. Loki recognized it the moment the being opened its mouth.
“Illyria,” he said, painting on a charming smile. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“I asked you a question, Asgardian,” Illyria responded, using what had once been the mouth of a human woman. “What is your purpose with the Wolf, Ram, and Hart?”
The office workers wisely scurried out of their way. They had managed to survive this long working for the evil law firm, and most of them wanted to survive a bit longer or at the very least not meet their end from whatever was about to happen.
“My purpose is my own,” he said carefully. “It has nothing whatsoever to do with you, Illyria. Also, it turns out I am a Jotun, not an Asgardian.”
He shifted to his birth form seamlessly, and Illyria merely nodded, accessing him.
“It is a better color on you, at any rate,” she said mirthlessly.
“Yes, well, you would be rather prejudiced in that regard considering your current form,” he said, noting that another worker had caught sight of him, shrieked, and run full tilt to the elevator, diving through the open doors. Loki was not entirely certain that there had been an elevator present on the other side. Ah well.
“I find this shell satisfactory in most regards, though claustrophobically small,” Illyria said, glancing down at the odd mixture of human and her own form, or at least part of it.
“And I find this one rather chilly,” Loki said, shifting back to the form he usually wore. “How did you come to be here?”
“There are still some who remember me and worship,” she said. “And you?”
“Chaos abounds in all worlds at all times, Illyria,” he said.
She gave a curt nod of agreement before saying, “I would prefer it if you did not murder any of my acolytes without my permission.”
“And by ‘prefer,’ I take it you mean there could be a war as a result?” Loki asked conversationally.
“Depending upon which one,” Illyria said. “For example, I have no use for the one called Eve. Disposing of her might be overlooked. But the others are…”
She seemed to be searching for a word.
“Amusing?” Loki ventured.
“Yes. That is an adequate description. No more than that,” she said, and he knew she was lying, which made him feel a good deal more comfortable.
He disliked Wolfram & Hart. They existed in many dimensions, though not so many as the Senior Partners liked to advertise, and he had bumped into them before. There was a sort of joylessness about them, the idea that all the marvelous mayhem they caused was merely, well, paperwork. If one was going to try to destroy all goodness in the universe, they could at least enjoy it more. Instead, they were all much like the woman Gwen in Files and Records, all data and numbers and statistics, devoid of passion and highly robotic, but with a very few exceptions.
One of those exceptions was a certain Lindsey McDonald, which was part of why Loki was there. One really shouldn’t go doodling tattoos all over oneself without first checking whether any of them happen to place the bearer under the thumb of the god of chaos, and Lindsey had neglected to be cautious in his haste. The man had switched sides so many times he resembled a tennis ball, but then that was neither here nor there. Loki liked to check on his property, and Lindsey might make a very good pawn.
“Great shades of Elvis, what in Tarkna are you doing here!” shouted a man in a colorful suit, who also happened to be green. He had obvious just come out of his office and run smack into the confrontation occurring.
Loki grinned in a way that usually sent mortals running, but this one just held his gaze, putting his hands on his hips and giving him a stern glare.
“Nu-uh, no way, Jose,” he said firmly. “You don’t have to sing one note for me to read you, and you are trouble with a capital everything. I don’t even want to know what’s going on in that head of yours, and… okay, who’s the guy with the floating crystal balls, because if ever someone needed a recording contract, he’s at the top of the list. Glam rock might be making a comeback next fall.”
“You can read minds?” Loki said, already knowing the answer.
“More or less. Auras, which is kind of the same thing only less linear,” he said. “Still, shoo! We’re full up on dastardly intents around here.”
“Lorne,” Illyria said, “this is Loki. He is a god, not unlike me, though certainly less powerful.”
“Debatable,” he said, clenching his teeth as he smiled.
“Oh,” Lorne said, looking distinctly less sure of himself. “Look, it’s been a long day and I need a slug of cappuccino or I’m going to go top over teakettle here. I’m at the end of my tether, so unless something horrific happens, I never saw you. Illyria, just try to keep him from imploding the building, okay?”
“For the moment,” Loki said, grinning more widely.
“Uh-huh,” Lorne said. “’kay, uh, I’m going to the break room. Possibly forever.”
The green man walked off in the opposite direction, muttering to himself about demons and monsters and what he was going to do if someone had taken the last biscotti.
“Pylean,” Illyria said by way of explanation.
“Not like any Pylean I’ve met,” Loki said as fragments of what he recognized as a tune by the Bee-Gees wafted from the break room.”
“True,” Illyria said, turning her attention back to Loki. “Do you intend to destroy us?”
“Not at the moment,” he said. “I am merely checking on one of my holdings and, while I the opportunity presented itself, I thought I would drop in on an old friend.”
“We were never friends,” Illyria said.
“I did not mean you,” he said, turning on his heel and heading towards one of the offices.
“So, Charlie, we on for beers and the match down at Joe’s Tavern tonight?” said a voice.
“I don’t do soccer,” said another.
“It’s not soccer! It’s bloody football! You lot just don’t use the proper name and… what?”
“There’s a really white dude standing in the door behind you, grinning like a crazy man and wearing one very weird-ass hat,” said the man sitting behind the desk.
“Does it have a pair of ridiculous-looking gold goat horns?” the other man said, still not having turned around.
“They’d be right,” the other replied.
“Ha! Loki!” he said, hopping to his feet and smiling widely and gripping Loki’s hand. “What’s it been? Six, no, seven decades!”
“Indeed, Spike,” Loki said. “And where is our lovely Drusilla?”
Loki noted with some pleasure that the word “our” made Spike grimace slightly.
“We’ve come to a parting of the ways,” Spike said.
“Too bad,” Loki said. “She was always highly entertaining, not to mention unpredictable in all the very best ways.”
Spike grudgingly nodded, then looked concerned.
“You here to kill anyone?” he asked seriously.
“No, just stopping by,” Loki said.
“Oh, well, that’s fine then,” Spike said, grinning again.
“I don’t remember you having such scruples before,” Loki said.
“Didn’t have a soul before, either,” Spike said.
Loki blinked, then laughed. “My, you have been busy, haven’t you?”
“Times change,” Spike said. “Oh, right, Charles Gunn, meet Loki, god of chaos and general purveyor of mischief.”
“Uh, pleasure?” he said uncertainly.
“Likewise,” Loki said.
“The Loki?” he whispered to Spike, giving Loki a suspicious look.
“Probably the one you’re thinking of, yeah,” Spike said. “He knew Dru pretty well.”
“Considering your ex, that doesn’t really surprise me,” Gunn said.
“You want to go with us to get beers and watch Manchester U on the telly at the pub on the corner? They’ve actually got decent chips,” Spike said to Loki.
Loki considered for a moment, then shrugged.
“Why not? I’ve nothing better to do at the moment,” he said.
“Oh, but you will. I have a brilliant idea for someone you can torture into next Tuesday with your magic,” Spike said. “I don’t believe you’ve ever met dear Angel, the very soul of perpetual torment and self-loathing, have you?”
“I’ve not had the pleasure yet,” Loki said as they turned to walk from the office.
“Oh, this might just be the best day ever,” Spike said, laughing.
Gunn looked after them with uncertainty written large across his features before he took a deep breath and followed behind, muttering, “Already sold my soul for a truck once. Might as well have drinks and watch soccer with Loki.”
“It’s called football!” yelled Spike from the hallway.
The next morning, Loki was gone, but a highly confused Angel awoke to find his apartment at Wolfram & Hart turned topsy-turvy despite never having awakened. His books had been shelved out of order, his weapons all had dull blades, and most notably, every last piece of clothing he owned was now a bright emerald green.
“Spike!” he yelled, striding angrily down the hallway, not realizing he also had an enormous bald patch on the back of his head.
