Don't Trick a Trickster

     I walked into the Asgardian pub at the edge of the city late that evening.  It wasn’t too crowded, so I was able to tell right away that my noble stepbrother hadn’t arrived yet.

     The mighty Thor hadn’t graced the patrons of Ragnarøkkr with his presence yet.

     Well, I wasn’t about to let that ruin my fun.

     Taking a seat at the bar’s counter, I gave the beautiful bartender a smile, evoking a smile on her own lovely face, then politely ordered an Asgardian Sunrise.  Tapping an index finger against the counter softly, I patiently waited for my drink while my eyes canvassed the other patrons of the pub—a mishmash of some of Asgard’s finest warriors displaying their pathetically heathen tendencies within the sanctity of these walls, a place for them to let go of their rigid and confining code.  Luckily for me, I was not hindered by such structure.

     I, Loki, had far greater plans of grandeur than they could ever contrive.  All I had to do was wait…

     I glanced back at my enchanting bar tender, she sliding the tall class containing my drink before me.  Giving me a wink, she then slid the slice of an orange onto the edge of the glass, then turned to move toward the next customer seeking patronage.

     Taking the drink in hand, I placed my lips to the straw and took a swift sip, enjoying the citrus sting amidst the unique muskiness of alcohol.  It was nearly impossible for alcohol to even have a marginal effect on my cognitive abilities, but it wouldn’t stop me from enjoying its taste.

     I paused in mid sip, my eyes focusing on the orange that had been intentionally placed on my glass in my presence.  This wasn’t any Asgardian citrus; this was an Earth orange.  I could tell by its distinct and subtle pungent odor those foolish Earth humans couldn’t detect with their inferior olfactory receptors.

     I’d been set up.

     The thud my fist made against the bar’s countertop momentarily gained the attention of a few nearby to me for only a brief moment before they resumed what they had been doing.  Scowling, I continued to sip on my drink, my mind already brooding over the ease in which I had been duped in this round of Con.  Never before had my stepbrother succeeded in fooling me, not until this time.  My, he was getting good at this, but then again, I thought with a smile, he was learning from the best.

     With impeccable timing, my conniving bartender returned to me, she not saying a word as she handed me the small metallic object.  Taking it from her begrudgingly, I looked at the case of the Earth communications device, sneering when I saw the Avengers logo plastered across its back side.  Undoubtedly, this was my dear stepbrother’s means of communicating with those other goody Earth heroes.

     Turning the primitive device over, I looked at the dark screen, selecting the button on the front.  The screen instantly lit up, text displaying across the screen.

     This round goes to me, dear brother.  Drinks are on me.  –Thor.

     I couldn’t help but let out a slow laugh that eventually turned into a bit of a maniacal one, tossing my head back as I let it out.  Indeed, I had to concede to him, at least for this round.

     But, he would pay soon enough.  Never trick a trickster.

     It didn’t take me long to break the lock on his ECD.  I’m not quite sure what this “facebook” is, but I’m sure his Avenger buddies will appreciate my dear stepbrother’s new and improved profile.  With nothing more than a smile, I slid the ECD in my pocket and stood from my barstool, smoothly exiting out of the pub and into the cool night air that sent a welcome tingle of ice through my veins.

     You, my stepbrother, have just been Loki’d.