2012 – New York City, Stark Tower
The sky outside Stark Tower flickered with residual energy from fractured timelines. Inside, Loki stood like a king in his fortress, overlooking a world he once failed to conquer. But now, everything had changed. He wasn't just the god of mischief anymore he was the god of multiverse, of time, of chaos. Stark Tower was no longer a monument to Iron Man's pride. It was his throne.
He traced his fingers across the glass window, smirking. "Do you feel it, Midgard? That delicate silence before the fall?"
Without warning, a thunderous roar echoed through the room.
"RAAAHHH!!"
The Hulk crashed through the far wall, leaping straight at Loki with his usual rage-fueled fury. But this wasn't the 2012 Loki he once slammed like a ragdoll. This was a version far beyond comprehension.
Loki didn't flinch. He merely raised a single hand, and mid-air, Hulk froze suspended like a puppet with cut strings.
"Still charging in headfirst, are we?" Loki sneered. With a flick of his wrist, green tendrils of magic swirled around Hulk, solidifying into a cube-shaped prison of pure time-locked energy. Hulk struggled, roared, eyes glowing but the prison held firm.
"Green man in green cube, attacking the green god," Loki said with theatrical sarcasm. "How greenly poetic."
With another snap, Hulk began to shrink, twisting and contorting until the mighty beast receded into the quieter, human form of Bruce Banner. He sat on the floor of the prison, blinking in disbelief.
"Loki…" Bruce gasped. "What are you doing? Where are Tony and Steve?"
Loki smiled wider, walking up to the edge of the cube. His shape shimmered, and he momentarily took Tony Stark's form.
"By transforming into you," Loki said in Stark's voice, "I finally understood something. You are the most intelligent among them… but only on average. You sensed me but too late."
He returned to his godly form, armor gleaming under the tower lights.
"I've already sent two Tonys and two Steves into the Void. My trials have only begun. And you, dear Banner... you're next."
Bruce's voice trembled. "You don't have to do this, Loki. You were changing. Becoming more..."
"Ah, I am becoming more," Loki cut him off, swirling a green flame between his fingers. "More mischief. More chaos. And more games. Now rest, little genius. The Void is too crowded for your kind."
With a final flick, Loki transformed again—this time into Bruce Banner himself. Every detail was perfect. The voice. The awkward smile. Even the twitch of the glasses.
He turned, now fully Banner, and muttered, "Let the third game begin."
Elsewhere – Stark Tower Lower Floors
Disguised as Bruce, Loki descended the elevator, casually joining the remaining Avengers who were regrouping after a dimensional anomaly alert. Natasha Romanoff looked over at him.
"Banner," she said, slightly smirking, "you're later than usual. Everything alright upstairs?"
Loki grinned in Banner's soft-spoken tone. "Just needed a moment. Lots of… gamma stress. You know the drill."
"You sure?" she asked, noticing something different in his gaze.
"Absolutely. Especially now that I get to spend time with you."
She raised an eyebrow but smiled faintly. The real Banner never flirted.
But she didn't question it further.
"Come on," Natasha said, grabbing his arm. "You're coming with me. You need to rest. The anomalies are making everyone tense."
Unaware she was walking alongside a god in disguise, she led "Banner" to a secret apartment one not even Fury knew about. Safe. Isolated.
Perfect for Loki's next game.
Meanwhile… In the Void
Darkness.
Silence.
A place outside time itself.
Here, two Tonys and two Steves floated in shifting, incomplete dimensions—each fragment of reality distorted and unfinished. The second trial had ended, but its damage lingered. Emotionally shattered. Mentally bent. They saw versions of themselves they weren't meant to see. Past regrets. Future failures.
Past Tony Future Tony clenched his fists. "We have to get out of here. There has to be a way."
"You still think there's an exit?" said Past Steve, sitting against a floating chunk of shattered Avengers Tower. "We're not in space or time. We're in… something Loki made. A narrative cage."
Past Tony groaned. "A what?"
"A cage we can't escape because he's the one writing the rules," Steve muttered.
Future Steve stood up. "Then maybe it's time we stop playing by his rules."
Future Tony shook his head. "The illusion is collapsing—but not fast enough. This isn't just psychological. This is multiversal sorcery. Only Loki can pull us out."
"Then we find him," Steve said. "Wherever he is. In whatever form he's taken."
They didn't know it yet, but Loki wasn't just controlling the Void.
He was watching them from every corner of it.
Smiling.
Waiting.
Meanwhile… In the Natasha apartment
The city lights outside flickered like dying stars, casting shadows across Natasha's quiet apartment. The war outside had left its mark. Buildings torn, people missing, whispers of the void bleeding through every alleyway. But in here in this small, fragile bubble of time Natasha Romanoff was not the Black Widow. She was just Natasha. And tonight, she needed something to make her forget the crumbling world.
"Are you sure?" he asked softly, standing by her door.
"I wouldn't have brought you here if I wasn't," she replied, her voice steady.
He stepped in. The door clicked shut behind him. She looked at him "Bruce Banner" in form, posture, voice. His gentle smile. That awkward, boyish charm she'd always felt safe around.
Except tonight, something was...different.
They didn't speak much. The silence was loaded with tension, but not the kind born of awkwardness. It was charged. Magnetic. His hands trembled slightly when he reached for her, but it wasn't fear. It was hunger, restrained. Like a predator in borrowed skin.
Their clothes fell in the dark like leaves in autumn slow, drifting, inevitable. Natasha pulled him close, lips meeting his in a kiss that burned not with affection but with urgency. A need to forget. To drown.
But as the moments passed, she began to sense the truth.
His scent wasn't right. Banner always smelled faintly of lab chemicals and soap. This one...smelled of wind and winter. Of magic.
His hands, too sure. His kiss, too commanding.
She pulled back slightly, studying his face in the dim light.
"Bruce?" she whispered.
He hesitated. For just a second, the mask cracked. His eyes flickered green not hazel, but a deep, searing emerald.
Her breath caught. "Loki."
He said nothing. The air between them froze.
Natasha's heart thundered. Her instincts screamed at her to reach for the gun under her bed, to strike, to kill.
But she didn't.
"Why?" she asked instead, voice a mixture of ice and curiosity.
He stepped back into the shadows, the illusion melting off him like water. Now he stood in his true form elegant, regal, dangerous. Shirtless, skin pale and flawless, black hair cascading down his shoulders, eyes like twin daggers of mischief and malice.
"Because I wanted to see if you'd know," he said, his voice velvet and venom. "And because I was curious what the infamous Widow would do."
She stood there, bare, breathing heavily.
"You think this is a game?"
"Everything is a game," Loki replied, tilting his head. "But some games become...pleasurable."
Natasha should have screamed. Should have attacked.
Instead, she walked to him slowly, pressing her body against his.
"You're insane."
"Possibly."
Her lips brushed his. "And you're still pretending to be in control."
That was the last word before fire replaced hesitation.
Their mouths collided again, this time in a war of dominance. Loki pulled her close, lifting her effortlessly, pressing her against the cold wall. She wrapped her legs around him, biting his lip. He growled in response, his fingers tangled in her hair.
It wasn't love. It wasn't forgiveness.
It was chaos.
Two broken creatures pretending the world hadn't ended. Pretending their choices weren't war crimes waiting to erupt. But for this one, fleeting night, Natasha Romanoff chose to feel something real even if it came from a liar.
Even if he wasn't the man she wanted.
He was the man who saw her.
She whispered in his ear as they fell into the bed, skin on skin, lips on lies:
"Don't pretend anymore. Show me the monster."
And Loki did.
Skin against skin. Pain and pleasure blurred.
She hated him.
She wanted him.
She saw him.
He shifted. Just slightly. Enough for her to see it. The beast beneath the prince. His skin shimmered with ancient runes. His eyes glowed like dying stars. Fingertips sparked with cosmic energy.
He didn't make love.
He unleashed.
She matched it. Blow for blow. Gasp for gasp. Their bodies collided in a rhythm that had nothing to do with tenderness. It was an exorcism. A surrender. A war inside a bedroom.
By the end, both lay bruised and breathless, staring at the ceiling like it might collapse.
Natasha finally spoke. "What happens now?"
Loki rolled over, tracing the spiral of her collarbone.
"Now… the cracks widen
Meanwhile...
In the endless ripples of the Void, Tony Stark stumbled. His knees hit the black floor. Steve caught him.
"You feel that?" Stark muttered, breathing heavy. "Something's shifted. Something big."
Steve nodded. "It's like the air just cracked open."
A voice, ancient and cruel, echoed through the dark.
"She saw me... and still chose chaos."
Tony looked up. Eyes burning.
"Loki's changed the game again."
And somewhere deep inside the broken layers of reality, a new crack opened.
Not just in the world.
But in Natasha Romanoff.