"Certainly."
Victor von Doom settled into his throne with the casual grace of someone accustomed to ruling nations. Even through the metal mask that concealed his features, his voice carried clearly across the Library of World, resonating with power and absolute confidence.
"Thanks to Professor Paradox's intelligence network," he continued, "I have successfully located and eliminated a cult known as the Eternal Warriors. More importantly, I absorbed the power of the deity they worshipped."
He paused, allowing the weight of that statement to settle.
"Outline."
Thor's eyes widened slightly. Even he, a god of Asgard, recognized that name from the oldest cosmic records. Outline was an abstract entity of universe-level power—a being capable of unmaking entire realities through conceptual manipulation alone.
And Doom spoke of this cosmic force as though it were merely another acquisition. Another tool added to his arsenal.
The power of at least a single universe now flowed through Victor von Doom's veins, granting him confidence that bordered on absolute certainty.
But even he recognized the limits of that power.
"However," Doom admitted, his tone hardening, "this alone will not be sufficient to confront the Ivory Kings directly. We require additional preparation before your brother can successfully ascend to become the God of Stories."
He gestured at the unconscious Loki draped over Thor's shoulder.
"His transformation is essential. Without it, we have no counter to the Beyonders' temporal advantages."
Professor Paradox nodded agreement, already calculating probabilities and branching timelines in his head.
Thor shifted his brother's weight, uncomfortable with the reminder that Loki—his annoying, scheming, pain-in-the-ass little brother—was somehow central to saving the entire multiverse.
The universe has a terrible sense of humor, Thor thought darkly.
Meanwhile, at the Time Variance Authority headquarters...
Loki—the one form Ben Parker universe, who'd been stabbed by Eon—found himself processed through the TVA's bureaucratic nightmare like any other temporal criminal.
The wound in his abdomen had mostly healed during transport, but the pain lingered, a dull throb that served as an excellent reminder that he was very much not in control of this situation.
As planned—well, the judge pronounced his guilt in a perfunctory trial that lasted all of three minutes. Then Agent Mobius, a middle-aged human with an inexplicable fondness for 1990s corporate casual wear, took custody of him.
"Come on," Mobius said, leading him down endless corridors of orange and brown. "Time for your education in why you shouldn't mess with the Sacred Timeline."
Loki followed, but his attention kept wandering.
That Eon character, he thought, replaying the encounter in his mind. Something about him felt... familiar. Not personally familiar, but conceptually. Like I should recognize what he is.
The purple energy blade. The way he'd simply erased Loki's illusions without any visible effort or counterspell. The contemptuous efficiency of the attack.
And then there was the other person he'd glimpsed.
While being marched through the TVA's corridors toward the courtroom, Loki had passed a young man lounging against a wall with the posture of someone who owned the place. The stranger wore a denim jacket covered in skull patterns, ripped jeans, and had hair that stuck up in gravity-defying spikes like he'd been electrocuted. Classic delinquent aesthetic—the kind of person who'd pick fights in bars and steal motorcycles for fun.
But it was the face that had caught Loki's attention.
Similar to Ben Parker's. Not identical, but close enough to be recognizable as a variant. And on his wrist, clearly visible despite the aggressive attempt at punk fashion, was a watch.
Not the same model as Ben's Omnitrix, but close enough to make Loki's tactical mind start cataloguing threats.
That was another Ben, he thought with growing dread. From a different universe. Which means there are multiple versions of him here.
Which means...
Loki felt a wave of despair wash over him as he contemplated Professor Paradox's insane plan.
I'm supposed to fight Ben? Multiple Bens?
Really?
He'd fought Ben before, of course. Multiple times, technically.
Fighting Ben Parker was not a novel experience.
It just usually ended with Loki getting beaten to a pulp.
It's fine, he told himself with false confidence. Worst case scenario, I get pummeled again. I've survived it before. I'll survive it again. Probably.
The self-reassurance wasn't particularly reassuring.
"You're awfully quiet," Mobius observed, glancing back at him with genuine surprise. "I was expecting more... I don't know, scheming? Threats? Attempts to manipulate me into letting you escape so you could take over the Time Variance Authority?"
"Is that what you want me to do?" Loki asked, arching an eyebrow.
"God, no." Mobius chuckled. "It's just that I'm not used to cooperative Lokis. Usually by this point in the intake process, you people are already plotting seventeen different escape routes and trying to seduce the guards."
"You people?"
"Yeah. Every Loki we've ever captured." Mobius shrugged. "In the multiverse, Lokis are basically the most common source of temporal violations. You're all so good at lying and scheming that you constantly create branching timelines. And then we have to prune them."
He said it so casually. Like discussing pest control.
"Pruning," Loki repeated carefully. "You mean execution."
"Well, we prefer 'removal from the timeline,' but yeah, basically." Mobius gestured vaguely. "You saw that Skrull variant before your trial, right? The one who got pruned right in front of you? Didn't even leave a body. Just... gone."
The image was still vivid in Loki's memory. The Skrull had been protesting his innocence, insisting he'd done nothing wrong, when the TVA officer had simply touched him with a glowing baton. The variant had disintegrated into golden particles, erased from existence so thoroughly that reality itself forgot he'd ever been.
"So I'd recommend behaving yourself," Mobius said, though his tone remained friendly. Almost conspiratorial. "I'd hate to have to prune you. The paperwork is murder."
They arrived at a small room—more of a cell, really, though furnished with surprising comfort. A chair, a table, and what appeared to be a vintage television and projector setup.
Mobius pressed Loki into the chair with surprising firmness for a middle-aged bureaucrat.
"To help you understand the gravity of your temporal crimes," he said, pulling back a curtain to reveal the projection screen, "I'm going to show you the contents of the Sacred Timeline. Your life, as it was meant to unfold."
"Wonderful." Loki leaned back in the chair, trying to project casual indifference. "I'm eager to see what fate you've decided for me. But before we begin, I have one question."
Mobius paused, hand on the projector switch. "Yeah?"
"That man I saw earlier. The one with the watch and the... excessive hair spikes. Like a deranged hedgehog." Loki kept his tone carefully neutral. "Who is he?"
Mobius's expression shifted instantly from friendly to alarmed. He actually lunged forward and clamped a hand over Loki's mouth.
"Don't," he hissed urgently, eyes wide with genuine fear, "say anything disrespectful about that guy where he might hear you!"
Loki raised his hands in surrender, and Mobius slowly removed his hand.
"That's Warlord," Mobius explained in a hushed voice introducing Mad Ben to Loki. "And he has the absolute worst temper. You have to call him 'Warlord' or he'll... well, he won't even bother with the pruning baton. He'll just transform into something with claws and teeth and tear you apart personally."
Understanding dawned in Loki's eyes.
"I completely understand," Loki said quickly. "Discretion is the better part of valor."
Mobius studied him suspiciously. "You're being way too cooperative. What are you planning?"
"Nothing whatsoever," Loki replied with his most innocent smile.
"Right." Mobius clearly didn't believe him, but couldn't identify the specific scheme. "Can we start the presentation now?"
"By all means."
This unusual compliance puzzled Mobius deeply. In his experience, a quiet Loki was a scheming Loki. The God of Mischief's silence meant he was definitely plotting something.
But without knowing what that something was, Mobius had no choice but to follow standard procedure.
"Let's start with what you've already experienced," he said, activating the projector. "In 2011, in a small town in New Mexico, you attempted to assassinate Thor during his exile."
The screen flickered to life.
Loki leaned forward, genuinely curious now—
And his expression immediately darkened.
Because the footage Mobius showed him was wrong.
Not just slightly different from his memories, but fundamentally altered. In this version of events, there was no Ben Parker. No Four Arms transformation. No Captain America wielding Mjolnir.
Instead, it played out like some poorly-written romance drama where Thor learned humility through the power of love with that mortal scientist woman.
"What is this?" Loki demanded. "'The Wandering God Falls in Love with Me?' Some kind of Asgardian soap opera?"
He was far more interested in understanding where Ben had gone in this timeline. But asking that question directly would be catastrophically foolish.
The answer was obvious: the Loki he'd replaced lived in a universe where Ben Parker either didn't exist, or had never become a superhero. A world that had unfolded completely differently from Loki's own experience.
How strange, Loki thought, studying the screen with new appreciation. A world without Ben's interference. I wonder what I became in that timeline.
"You already know this part," Mobius said. "Want me to fast-forward through the New Mexico incident?"
"No." Loki settled back in his chair. "I want to watch it all."
He was genuinely curious now. What kind of person would he have become without Ben's influence? Without being recruited into the Plumbers? Without learning that there were forces in the universe that could casually swat gods aside like annoying insects?
If I'd never met Ben, Loki mused, I'd probably still be that arrogant fool I was before. Obsessed with proving myself Thor's equal. Too blind to see Odin's love.
"Suit yourself." Mobius seemed pleased by his cooperation, pulling up a chair to watch alongside him.
The Sacred Timeline unfolded like a series of interconnected films.
Loki watched his alternate self orchestrate Thor's exile with poisonous jealousy. Watched himself take the throne of Asgard through deception. Saw the confrontation on the Bifrost where he'd rejected Odin's love and fallen into the abyss.
Madness, he thought, watching his variant's face twist with rage and pain. Jealousy blinded you completely. You couldn't see what was right in front of you.
Then came the Chitauri invasion.
In this timeline, Loki had submitted to Thanos—truly, completely submitted. Taken the Mind Stone scepter like a loyal servant. Led an army to conquer Earth not for himself, but for his master.
Loki wanted to reach through the screen and throttle his alternate self.
Pathetic! he thought furiously. You're acting like Thanos's dog! Where's your dignity? Where's your pride as a god of Asgard?!
Yes, he'd worked for Thanos in his own timeline. But by that point, he'd been mind-controlled. And even then, he'd eventually outmaneuvered the Mad Titan, using the God of Thunder power and Casket of Ancient Winters to defeat the Black Order and save Earth.
This version just... served. Willingly.
It was humiliating to watch.
"Then you were arrested," Mobius narrated, "but you got lucky. The Avengers traveled back in time, and in the chaos, you managed to steal the Tesseract and escape."
Loki frowned. "Wait. If their time travel created this branch, why aren't you arresting them for temporal violations?"
"Because their time travel was necessary," Mobius explained patiently. "It's part of the Sacred Timeline. A required event in the proper development of history."
"So it's fate."
"Basically." Mobius shrugged. "The Avengers thought they were making choices, reversing Thanos's snap, saving the universe. But really, it was all predetermined. Part of the script."
Loki absorbed this with growing unease. The implications were staggering. Free will as an illusion. Every choice already written, already decided by whoever controlled this "Sacred Timeline."
No wonder Professor Paradox wants to destroy this system, Loki thought. It's cosmic tyranny disguised as order.
"Keep watching," Mobius said, his voice softening slightly. "The rest is stuff you haven't experienced. Stuff that would have happened if you hadn't created this branch."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small packet of tissues, offering them to Loki.
Loki stared at the tissues in confusion. "Why are you giving me these?"
"You'll need them soon," Mobius said gently.
"Need them for what?" Loki's mind immediately went to inappropriate places. "I'm not going to... are there erotic scenes coming up? Is Thor about to consummate his relationship with that mortal woman?"
He held up a hand before Mobius could respond.
"Because I'm not interested in watching my brother's sex life, thank you very much. I'm a god of mischief, not a perverted voyeur!"
Mobius actually laughed. "No, God, that's not— Just take the damn tissues, Loki. Trust me."
Loki accepted them suspiciously, still not understanding.
Why would I need tissues?
He mentally eliminated the correct answer before it could fully form.
It can't possibly be for tears. I don't cry. Gods don't cry over their own futures.
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