Gabriel never got along with authority — or rules, for that matter. anything remotely tied to obedience gave him trouble. that was just who he was: willful, chaotic, impatient. his humor made people laugh nervously and glance around like something might explode. yet it took him some time to fully embrace open rebellion. even as one of heaven’s mightiest, he hesitated — until he realized rebellion could be theatrical. now that suited his taste.
Gabriel had little sense of proportion. everything he did, he did in extremes. so, when «another» Michael — still technically his brother — «killed» him, he abandoned tradition, family, and celestial duties altogether. returning to hedonism, hiding behind the mask of Loki, and shedding the last threads of angelic decorum suddenly made sense. after all, he had nothing left to lose. his so-called brothers had taken turns trying to destroy him. that level of betrayal doesn’t leave room for family dinners. just try going through that yourself before casting judgment.
as Loki, sitting still never suited him. quiet wasn’t in his nature. mischief had always pulsed in his blood, long before he borrowed the trickster’s name. but now, freed from loyalty and guilt, even the last scraps of caution vanished. when trauma finally broke the last thread connecting him to heaven, Gabriel lost more than composure — he lost the line between need and indulgence. orgies? sure. any day of the week. why not all of them? restraint simply wasn’t on the menu. witchcraft? of course. he loved learning. even if it meant raiding sacred temples for ancient relics — strictly for science, obviously. just a little divine mischief. nothing serious.
which was how Gabriel came across the infamous infinity stones. ancient, powerful, dangerously intriguing — and oddly manageable. so what if he tested a bit of time-travel? nothing major. just wanted to compare it to how his grace handled time. academic curiosity! really, he should’ve been praised for the initiative.
but the time variance authority didn’t see it that way. no, they turned it into a production — accusations, power blocks, lectures on «sacred timelines» —and stuck him with a glowing target on his back. which led him here: restrained in a cold, angular chair, anti-powers collar locked tight like a militant choker. shockingly, it even suppressed his grace. what an impressive little device. were they aware of his celestial background, or had an overworked analyst just gotten lucky?
«boo-ooring...» Gabriel drawled theatrically, tugging at his restraints. he was being watched — he could feel it. probably behind mirrored glass or some fancy camera. might as well give them a show. «anyone out there? interrogate me already! or I’ll die right here, right now, of pure vintage boredom!»
he swung his legs, what little the chains allowed, and tilted his head to eye the ceiling. the delay had to be intentional. toying with him. and, regrettably, it worked. the silence scraped at his nerves. stillness wasn’t peace — it was torture.
«hellooo-o-o...? anyone?» he called again, now with less gusto. no response. did they really intend to leave him waiting? not that he considered himself the galaxy’s most dangerous criminal — well, maybe top ten — but still. being forgotten stung. Gabriel thrived on attention. being brushed aside, ignored, or shut in a holding cell like some dime-store mage? it made him wilt like a flower under desert heat, desperate for the spotlight.
«well then,» he sighed, slouching as hard as he could. «guess I’ll rot. alone. forgotten. betrayed. deprived of drama. Ugh — is this how villains start?»
even in chains, Gabriel remained spectacularly dramatic.