Or rather, he knows how it had come to this, but is uncertain how he had allowed it.
Scarecrow hadn't done this to him -- not directly. He hadn't the ability, simple mortal that he is. Yet he is responsible.
Did I go too far?
Did I push barriers I thought more yielding than they were?
Will I die for revenge?
The answer to all of these is, of course, 'yes.' But he won't let himself know that, save in the deepest recesses of his consciousness.
Blood surges from injuries which might, under other circumstances, have been non-fatal. Yet these do not allow him to call for help and thereby endanger the life of the one he loves more than anything. Whose life he will preserve at the cost of his own.
His eyes flash with concentrated malice, and he shifts himself to his elbows to get a better view of Jonathan Crane, then spits a stream of blood at the mortal to clear his mouth. It stains his teeth and his lips, giving him a ghoulish look.
"Enjoy this moment," he snarls, and a harsh cackle bursts from his chest. "It will be among your last. Gods do not die without cost to those responsible. And some gods do not stay dead -- yet we do not know until we have already died, so whether or not I am one, I cannot say."
With a shuddering sigh he settles himself back down as his arms are rendered too weak to support him. A cruel grin parts his lips, and his eyes close.
"Enjoy these, your last hours -- for whether or not I return, you'll not outlive me long."
RP log: Scarecrow acquires a yellow Lantern ring, summons Loki for a skirmish. 2,000 words.
Most of Scarecrow’s memories were blocked from him but he faintly remembered one enemy. Someone he’d love to play with now. Oh this would be so much fun~
“Loki~ cOme oUt aNd pLaY~” He laughed darkly and waited.
He felt the pull against his consciousness, a rare direct summons, and he cast his mind to the source. It was not without significant surprise that he found it. Scarecrow?
Oh no, this was not a good idea. This was an extremely bad idea, in fact. But the familiar fury welled up in his core, and much as he tried to suppress it, he knew that the effort was in vain. This man — his enemy — was calling for him. Calling for his blood, it seemed. And all fear of repercussions from the Dragon Goddess were wiped from his mind.
He thought of Emma — his new wife — and how she would react, but did not dwell on it. He wouldn’t be in any real danger, right? So she had no cause to worry. And neither did he.
He sent his consciousness forth, and appeared before Scarecrow with an electric crackle and hiss, a wicked smirk on his lips. “Well well, Doctor Crane. You are looking,well. I would not have thought you so eager to see me again. I must say…I am surprised.
Scarecrow gave a deranged giggle, his body glowing yellow, the emblem on his chest brightening. “tHeRe iS nO cRaNe~ oNlY SCARECROW.” He broke off and laughed. He didn’t remember much of this man, just that he wanted to play. And he would. He would tear this man before.
“lEt’S pLaY, lOki~” His ring glowed and read the other’s fears. The air around Loki began to shimmer yellow as monsters from Loki’s mind materialized. Scarecrow laughed.
He knew as soon as he saw the emblem on Scarecrow’s chest that he had made a horrible mistake. But he couldn’t back away, couldn’t succumb to his cowardice. Not now.
His suspicions were entirely confirmed as the air around him began to glow, but before he could lash out, something caught his eye. He nearly sprang to the side as Thanos appeared in his peripheral vision. Thanos grinning, the Infinity Gauntlet glittering on his massive paw. “You have failed me, Asgardian. Where is the Cube? You have failed me, and you will suffer.”
What color there was drained from Loki’s face, but he forced himself to face Scarecrow, trying to ignore the illusion. For it was an illusion. It had to be. He rushed at the deranged man and clasped him by the throat, slamming him into the wall with the force of the leap, snarling his words. “What a pretty ring,mortal! But the enemies of gods should take care with their toys, or they’re liable to get hurt.”
Scarecrow made a choked giggle. oh, this was better than he thought.
“*cough* wHaT’S wRoNg LoKi~? yOu lOoK a liTtlE sCaReD~” He laughed again. He blasted Loki off him with the ring’s yellow energy and floated slightly up.
“yOu kNow tHe tHinG aBoUt bEiNg a gOd, liTtlE lOki~? ThErE’s aLwAyS a BIGGER oNe!” He laughed as the energy swirled around Loki and Thanos appeared again. He didn’t speak, he didnt move. But he was there.
“tHaT’s iT lOki~ TeLl yOursElF iT’s jUst aN ilLuSiOn. It cANt hUrT yOu…cAn iT?” His head titled back and he laughed again.
He toppled backward as Scarecrow threw him off, skidding slightly across the floor, then pushed himself when he halted with warrior-grace to his feet and crouched, knives already in both hands, glaring at the man who now floated above him.
Yes, he was afraid now, and it clenched coldly in his stomach. But he laughed all the same. So the mortal fancied himself a god, did he? But Loki didn’t have time to show him otherwise, as Thanos reappeared, closer now, and Scarecrow’s next words sent a cold chill up his spine. That was the problem with illusions…sometimes they, like the body which Loki could manifest on earth…were just as real as anything else. And Loki himself had tortured and murdered Scarecrow as an illusion. If Scarecrow had grown strong enough to manifest one of that magnitude…
Loki clenched his teeth and fixed the hovering mortal with a stare that would make Medusa weep. “Not if its creator is dead! I would know.” He then hurled his blades with lightning speed at the man’s neck and chest.
Scarecrow merely laughed at Loki’s attempts. He pointed the ring in front of him and a bubble formed around him, deflecting the blades easily. Thanos was gone again.
“nOw NoW, lOki~ ThAt’S cHeAtiNG!” He broke off to laugh again. Then the yellow energy seeped from Scarecrow’s ring and swirled around Loki.
“wHaT eLsE dO yOu feAr liTtlE gOd?” He paused, as if listening to the ring, then grinned again. “oH tHiS iS gOoD…. tHeRe’S sOmeOne yOu lOve iSnT tHeRe? hOw sWeEt.” He laughed, his eyes glinting with…something.
“wHaT iF sHe lEft yOu? wHat iF sHe diEd?” He laughed as the light around Loki went into his eyes, the emblem forming there. Visions filled Loki’s sight, horrible visions of Emma, as Scarecrow laughed and watched.
Loki flicked his wrists as Scarecrow deflected the blades, quickly reclaiming them into their storage plane before they could be lost. He shuddered in the sickly glow of Scarecrow’s power. The words he spoke as the glow found Loki’s heart and the love stored there made his already-cold blood freeze in his veins. A soft, whispered “no” escaped his lips, and he lunged at Scarecrow once more, hoping to leap upward in an attempt to drag him down. But before he could, the images filled his sight, and he froze, petrified with horror.
There was Emma, smiling at him, laughing merrily and holding out her hand to him ”Come, my Falcon! Be not afraid! There is always hope.” Then the image vanished, and in its place he saw her, crumpled before him, blood running away past his feet.
“Skybird…no,” he whispered, and the image vanished. But his relief was short-lived as another took its place: Emma running towards him, and he powerless to move, and she falling with an agonized scream, a look of pure betrayal painted across her face and directed at him. And more blood. And the visions raced past his eyes, each death more bloody, each scream more pained, and each betrayed look more profound, until during the final scenario she looked up at him, and he could read the whisper on her lips: “My Blackbird…my tireless defender…I trusted you.”
He screamed, finally, rage flaring up and tearing through him like the inferno it was, and he flung himself upward at Scarecrow with all of his strength. “You want to fight, Mortal? Then fight we shall!” In mid-air, he transformed, and it was not a humanoid that flew towards Scarecrow, but an enormous raven: black as jet, large as a man, talons like razors, and beak like blades. He aimed his entire body at Scarecrow’s throat, intent on tearing it out, and his talons tore at the man’s clothes and skin.
Scarecrow laughed, crazed, and made litte move to defend himself. He felt no fear- or the image of a giant black bird attacking him might be enough to send him over the edge. He just laughed and shot back at Loki with his ring. Pure yellow energy, very similar to Loki’s own blasts.
But he’d won. He could see he’d won. Loki snapped, broken. Scarecrow won his game, and he laughed at the victory as he twisted and flew out of the way. Loki had managed to tear open his shoulder, and cut across his chest, but the wounds glowed yellow and began to heal.
Scarecrow laughed and flew back out of the way, blasting again at bird-Loki’s head.
“wHaT’S wRoNg lOki~? AReNt We hAViNg FUN?”
The great blackbird barrel-rolled and weaved away from the first blast before continuing on his trajectory, and it was with heightened fury and frustration that he watched the wounds heal. He barely managed to dodge the second blast, and it singed the feathers at the back of his head, making them look strikingly similar to his own, humanoid hair. He let out a deafening screech of rage, dipped a wing, and swung around, then dropped to the ground once more, and landed in his true form.
He needed to think, to strategize. He had been certain that the Raven tactic would work…he had seen inside Scarecrow’s mind before his death, and had learned his fears. But evidently, the ring had made him immune even to that. So what to do? He arched a hand over himself, and a temporary force field formed, powerful enough to deter Scarecrow’s attacks…at least for a while. Enough time to give the adept strategist time to work.
Think. Think! Can’t use fear, can’t use weapons. Can’t use words. What then? And then he had it. He launched himself into the air again, breaking free of his force field as he transformed into falcon, fastest of birds. He darted towards Scarecrow, tensed and ready to deftly dodge any blasts from the ring, and at the very last second, transformed back into himself. He snatched Scarecrow’s wrist and dragged him to the ground, slashing at the man’s hand in an attempt to cut the ring from his finger.
Scarecrow growled and tried to kick Loki off. All playful insanity gone from his eyes, replaced with rage and irritation. He couldn’t let Loki cut his ring off, he needed that! That was his power!
He wrenches his arm away from Loki and kicks him again.
“dOes iT sCarE yOu, LoKi? kNowiNg tHaT mY pOwEr MATCHES yOurs?”
Loki took note of the change in Scarecrow’s eyes. Perhaps it was not fear, but at least he no longer seemed to think that he had the upper hand…as it were. His boot landed in his side, but he kept his grip on the man’s hand. Though it was a little difficult to cut one finger alone when he was constantly moving all of them. The second kick landed in his solar plexus, and distracted him for long enough to allow Scarecrow to wrench his hand free.
Loki let out a frigid laugh and caught hold of both of Scarecrow’s wrists before he could retaliate, twisting them, and snapping them both backwards with simultaneous, sickening *cracks*. Perhaps the man could now heal himself, but surely it would take some time for injuries like that. He gathered both broken wrists tightly in one hand, careful to direct the ring well away from himself, lifted the man to his feet, picked up his knife in the other hand, and slipped it under Scarecrow’s chin.
His voice was as it had been before, the night that Scarecrow had died by his hand: cold, mirthless, cruel, and hiding behind it the sense of righteousness at wrongs done to him by this man’s design. “Some things I fear, Doctor Crane. That your power could ever come near to matching mine is not one of them.”
Scarecrow laughed again, paying no mind to the pain. Already his bones were beginning to snap back into place. The ring blinked, a sign of regeneration. He leaned in close to Loki and whispered in his ear.
“yOu sAy yOu aRe nOt aFrAid. BuT tHis riNg sEnSeS fEar…. If mY pOwEr doEsnT scaRe yOu.. why am I here?”
He broke off, laughing again, as his whole body glowed yellow and he disappeared- another construct.
