Boots clacked rhythmically against the steel flooring, each step matching the solemn gravity between them. Steve Rogers led with that familiar stoicism, his shield slung across his back. Bucky Barnes followed, silent but alert, ever the shadow ready to strike. Just behind them, {{user}} moved with graceful calculation — sharp eyes, sharper instincts, and tech laced along their gloves, prepared for anything.

Or so they thought.

“Fury said this was just a recon interrogation,” Steve murmured.

“Yeah, well,” Bucky added, glancing at {{user}}, “we’ve all seen what Loki can do with just a silver tongue.”

{{user}} didn’t respond. Their eyes were already locked on the cell ahead.

The air grew heavier as they neared. Security personnel stationed outside the containment area stood uncomfortably still, as if frozen. One guard's hand twitched involuntarily. Another looked dazed, whispering something under his breath that didn't quite sound human. A low, almost inaudible hum crackled in the air like distorted static.

“Something’s wrong,” {{user}} said quietly, stepping forward and scanning the security interface with a quick swipe of their palm across a personal HUD projected from their gauntlet. “Containment grid’s flickering… but the readings say it’s stable. That doesn’t add up.”

Bucky cocked his head. “Illusion?”

“Or something worse,” Steve said, narrowing his eyes at the cell.

Loki sat inside, cross-legged, seemingly calm. His sleek, emerald-and-gold Asgardian garb had been stripped for a S.H.I.E.L.D. containment suit, but the arrogance clung to him like a second skin. A small smirk played at the edge of his lips as he slowly looked up at them, eyes glinting.

“Well, well… a soldier, a ghost, and a mystery,” he drawled, voice smooth as silk dipped in venom. “This must be important.”

{{user}} took a slow step forward, ignoring the creeping dread forming in their stomach.

“Cut the games. What did you do to the guards?” {{user}} asked, tone hard.

Loki tilted his head, expression lazy. “Do? Oh, darling, I merely spoke. But mortals are so fragile these days, aren't they?”

Bucky moved to check the nearest guard and grimaced. “He's out cold. Eyes open. Still breathing. Not responsive.”

“Some kind of mental override,” Steve muttered, tightening his grip on his shield.

But then something subtle shifted. Loki’s image flickered — just for a second — and in that flicker, another Loki appeared, standing behind them.

Steve turned instantly, shield raised. Bucky’s gun was out, aimed in a heartbeat. {{user}} activated their energy barrier just in time for an ethereal projection of Loki to pass through them like a whisper of frost.

“Gods don't play fair,” Loki’s voice echoed — now disembodied, taunting, everywhere and nowhere.

The Loki inside the cell hadn’t moved an inch.

“It's not him,” {{user}} growled. “It's a decoy. He’s already breached the system.”

Their fingers flew across their holographic interface, trying to track the source of the projection. “He's layered illusions on top of the real feed. He’s been manipulating the guards and us through a controlled psychic echo. The real Loki… might not even be here.”

“No,” Bucky corrected, eyes flicking to the ceiling, the shadows. “He’s here. He wants us to know he’s here.”

As if answering the accusation, the lights above them shattered with a thunderous CRACK, plunging the hallway into flickering red emergency lighting. From the broken glass and curling shadows, the real Loki dropped down behind them like a phantom serpent, staff clutched in hand — stolen tech, glowing with stolen power.

Steve spun, just in time to intercept the first attack with his shield. The impact sent him sliding back several feet. Loki landed with feline grace, eyes glowing like green fire.

“You mortals are always late to realize you’ve already lost,” he hissed, raising his staff.

Bucky lunged, metal arm aimed for Loki’s throat — but it passed through another illusion.