Even with his destiny seemingly back in his own hands, the multiverse clearly had a sense of humour. No sooner had Loki escaped from the TVA into another reality, he had dropped right into the path of the monster known as Gargantos. Their mutual surprise meant that the tentacle slapping him in the chest wasn’t full force even if it was enough to break the TemPad he had been holding.
He tumbled across a ridiculously beautiful meadow, the grass so soft it had to have been some version of Alfheim. Loki muttered an ow more out of inconvenience than any true damage.
It transpired the beast was chasing someone. Ordinarily, the god of mischief might have left it to its own devices. Except it was a screaming, scared, young girl and his head was full of residual heroism and worry for another. And, honestly, he really wanted to kill something.
Having had the foresight to filch the daggers from the TVA lockers before he left, he conjured them into his palms and chased after the monster. His form flickered, scattering many images of him to confuse it as to which of him was the real Loki.
Leaping atop it, he drove the blades into the creature. “I don’t think so!”