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Loki was annoyed. A new plague was assailing Midgard, and Thor and his Avenger companions were all so preoccupied with their attempts to help that they had utterly ceased their attempts to capture him or foil his plots. Just today, he had stolen a magical artifact from Strange's little cult, summoned an eldritch horror (only a small one) in Times Square, and kidnapped Jane Foster. None of these tried and true methods had brought forth his brother, or Steve Rogers, the Hulk, or even the Winter Soldier, though Loki was certain that none of them could fall ill from any diseases.
Strange had done some spell from afar that had rendered the artifact useless. Times Square had been distinctly lacking in innocent bystanders to be imperiled. Jane had been more afraid of his breathing on her than his threats to turn her into a newt or feed her to a tiger. She had held her breath until he acceded to staying a full man-length away from her. Loki had called Thor, informing him that he had Foster, but his moronic brother had replied that the local officials had commanded the city's inhabitants that they were to remain indoors, save those who were providing essential services.
"And in case of emergency, surely?" Loki had purred delightedly, just before he realized Foster had found a bottle of bleach and a rag and was diligently disinfecting his lair. The reek was awful.
Thor had threatened to tell Mother, and Loki had hastily taken Foster back to her home. He even let her keep the bleach.
Now he sat on an outcropping of a tall building, watching a smattering of pedestrians roaming streets that were usually teeming with mortals. This was dull. Even if the heroes could be lured out to fight, there was no audience.
Something needed to be done, and for that, Loki was going to need some information. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the contacts he had collected. Most of them seemed unlikely to be of any use. He backed up to the beginning and started searching again, then paused. Hmm. Maybe.
He dialed, sending a spell along with the phone's signal to make the receiver believe his number was someone whose call was more likely to be answered than an unknown number. It was a trick he'd learned from a telemarketing firm, though that had not prevented him from turning all their equipment into snakes for doing it to him.
The phone rang on the other end. Once. Twice. And then, "Yes, Director?" Phil Coulson inquired.
"If you hang up, I'll come and ask you my question in person," Loki warned the SHIELD agent.
There was a long pause, and Loki wondered if he would have to go through with that. It might be amusing. Coulson would be sure to have a weapon ready, and maybe a trap or two in place by the time Loki could get to him.
"You can ask. I don't promise I'll answer."
The man was so unflappable, so competent. Maybe Loki should track down his scepter and acquire Coulson as a minion? The idea had merit, but not until this sickness had resolved. Mortal minions were already too short-lived, and he'd hardly want one that was coughing and keeling over dead. One thing at a time.
"Agent Coulson, when is this wretched Coronavirus business going to be over so things can go back to normal?" Loki demanded.
"Well," Coulson hmm. "I'm afraid it's hard to say. I don't suppose you're volunteering to help?"
"Hardly!" Loki scoffed. A pigeon landed by his foot and gave him a beady stare, then pecked his boot. Loki turned it into a sea bass and teleported it to the kitchen of his favorite seafood restaurant. At least they were still open, even if they were only providing take-out. "Your disgusting illnesses are no business of mine."
"I thought you wanted things to get back to normal?" Coulson challenged. "But we already asked Thor if you would be able to help, and he told us your magic wouldn't be of any use."
Oh, Thor had said that, had he? Loki seethed. "Thor is an idiot."
"Does that mean you would be able to help?"
"Oh no, you cannot manipulate me that easily, Agent Coulson."
"Never thought I could," Coulson did not quite lie.
"Well," Loki asked, "What is the problem, exactly? As I was given to understand, the solution is to prevent any new cases, and those who have it will either die off or recover in a few weeks. Correct?"
"Essentially," Coulson answered. "But if you want me to keep talking to you, I suggest you at least try to fake a little sympathy."
"Fine, fine, I feel terrible about it and wish to prevent any more tragic and unfortunate deaths than absolutely necessary." Getting up, Loki began to pace along the narrow marble decoration. He had found this little overlook by following the Spiderling around. The boy liked to pause here and eat the abysmal hot dogs sold by a vendor down below. Only the vendor, like nearly everyone else, was now absent. "Just tell me why you cannot prevent new cases from happening."
Agent Coulson sighed, sounding aggrieved. "Not everyone is taking it as seriously as they ought. Not taking enough precautions."
"Oh?" Loki pounced on this tidbit of information. "What precautions are they refusing to take? Are they so cavalier with their lives?"
"It's not fatal to everybody, not even to most people," Coulson said.
Almost, Loki mentioned that this did not seem much of a plague to him, but he decided that Coulson might consider this 'unsympathetic.' "You are saying that they are insufficiently afraid?"
"Some people don't even believe in the virus," the agent informed him dryly. "They think it's some kind of hoax."
"Really?" Loki filled the idea away for further consideration. "They have no faith in your leaders or your scholars and healers?"
"A lot of people have trouble believing in things they can't see."
That was information Loki could use. He was sure of it. "Interesting."
"You have an idea?" Coulson asked, hopefully.
Loki smiled to himself and cut the connection, skywalking to a different part of the city just in case Coulson had somehow traced the call and was sending a nasty little drone or something. A plan was coming together in his mind.
The public library was closed, but Loki had no trouble getting in or finding the research materials he wanted. He scanned a few books on viruses and found the subject dry and difficult. Moving on to history texts, he read a great deal more about past epidemics. It was fascinating stuff. Last but far from least important, he read several enlighting tomes on human psychology.
Ordinarily, he would have sought out the television media to convey his message to the city and the world, but when he called their networks, he could not get through. Time to try out some more modern media. Using a bit of magic, he recharged his phone and installed Twitter, Instagram and TikTok. Then he went in search of the proper people of whom to make an example.
He soon found the perfect victims: a group of mostly young people holding a 'Coronavirus Party' in defiance of the city's orders not to gather.
Putting on his most impressive armor, with helm and cape, Loki blew the door apart to make his grand entrance. The mortals all shrieked and cowered most agreeably. Strolling through their ranks, he created clones of himself to help make the best impression and prevent anyone from bolting. He monologed a bit about conquest and his innate superiority until most of them had recovered sufficiently to take out their phones and start recording or live streaming. Then he got down to the real message.
"Pitiful mortals!" he raised his arms and beamed as evilly as he could manage without laughing. "I bring glad tidings! These tiny things, these germs that sicken you and make your short, meaningless lives a misery, I have decided, in my beneficence, to make them visible to you all so that you may see your enemy!"
Waving his arms in a flourish, he unleashed a glowing green mist that crawled through the room, slowly filling it, and then making its way out every vent, every crack in doors and windows, spreading throughout the building, throughout the block, throughout the borough. In a little time, it would cover the island of Manhatten. In its wake, it left every person, every surface of everything it had touched blotched and mottled with a hundred shades of the most repulsive shades imaginable. There were reds like rotting blood, greens reminiscent of acid, venom or mold, yellows like bile, excremental browns, and rot black.
His captive audience and future messengers all babbled in excitement, alarm, and rapidly growing disgust. They soon noticed that when they spoke or breathed, specks of the same hideous colors flew from their lips and noses.
"What the hell, man?" a well-dressed man who bore facial hair unfortunately similar to Stark's yelled, attempting to rub the stuff off his hands. "Is this the Covid crap?"
Loki shrugged elaborately. "You people carry so many diseases. I could not be bothered to distinguish them."
"Shit, shit, shit!" a young woman had finally decided she wanted to distance herself after all. "I got to go. I got to get this junk off of me!"
Loki smiled for all their little cameras. "I wish you luck with that." His clones all flickered out, and so did he, letting his smile remain a second longer, as he had seen an amusing cat in a film do.
Thor called him just as he reached his lair/apartment, thunderously angry, of course. "Loki! What have you done!"
"I did a good deed!" Loki bragged, delighting in his brother's wrath. "This plague should be considerably shorter, thanks to me! I insist you tell Mother all about it."
"Remove your spell! The humans are terrified!" Thor shouted. The phone's speaker was sadly inadequate in conveying his true volume.
"Good," Loki replied evenly. "As they should be."
Hanging up, he sat down on the sofa and turned on his tv, scanning the channels to see which network would get the story of what was happening first. His phone began to ping with alerts, and he opened it and began to read his tweets. He was up to over three thousand followers, and the numbers were rising rapidly.
All in all, it had been a good day.