I see the rioting before we are even beamed down.

The Q-ship hovers over Stuttgard, Germany, a city in District 7. The seven champions and two Children of Thanos stand waiting, all of us suited up in our armor. Thor wears his grey breastplate and red cloak from his own Contest, a winged helmet in one hand and a hammer in the other. He stands solemnly, waiting, part of his long blonde hair drawn back to keep it out of his face.

Steve is dressed in his bright blue suit with red and white striping, a silver star planted over his chest and the blue helmet covering his head and the upper part of his face. But instead of the striped shield from his Contest, he has two dark shields, strapped to his forearms, the edges sharpened to make them formidable weapons. That is, if you prefer a shield. Which I do not.

Wanda Maximoff is dressed much more casually than Captain America or my brother, in a black dress that doesn't even come down to her knees and a red leather jacket with three quarter sleeves. Her long reddish brown hair hangs loose about her face, her eyes lined with black makeup. Two necklaces are fastened around her neck, a multitude of rings grace her fingers, and two black leather gauntlets cloak her wrists. Torn black stockings come up to her knees, and she completes her look with heeled half-cut boots.

Shuri Udaku wears a traditional Wakandan getup, a navy blue armored tunic and vibranium gauntlets over her wrists. White dots pepper her face and a white stripe splits her lower lip, her dark hair coiled on top of her head and its hanging braid brushing against her back.

Hope van Dyne is dressed in her Wasp uniform, a tribute to her dead mother. Janet van Dyne was killed in the Infinity War, guarding the Tesseract from Thanos, and she, too, was known as the Wasp. The uniform is navy and grey, with red and light grey accents. Her dark hair is drawn back into a high ponytail, her mask currently off.

Veers is wearing her Starforce uniform, except the colors have been adjusted to be dark green and gold, my colors. I assume this is for two reasons: one, because Starforce probably doesn't want her wearing their uniform after they basically disowned her, and two, because we are supposed to be a team and teams look better wearing the same colors. Her wavy hair is loose about her shoulders and her expression is grim and determined. This is, after all, our last chance.

And I am dressed in my Asgardian armor from my interview, complete with my helmet and scepter, which has been elongated into a golden staff with a blue gem situated below the blade. The golden armor is polished and formidable, a reminder of Asgard's previous eminence.

Gamora and Nebula, not being champions, don't need to sport a particular look the way the rest of us do. We're supposed to be recognizable as those who preserve the Balance, but Gamora and Nebula are not household names, they aren't famous. So they don't need to stand out the way we do. Gamora still does, though, in a black form-fitting shirt and leggings, a low slung belt holding her sword, Godslayer. Over her shirt is a slim, sleeveless vest, and an ebony collar circles her throat. Black gauntlets cover her wrists, and silver pieces create a simple design on the lapels of her vest. She looks intimidating and beautiful, but I know better than to say anything about it to her.

Nebula, on the other hand, wears a simple dark purple bodysuit, a leather belt wrapped around her waist. She wears a long gauntlet over one wrist and a short one over the other, with two electroshock batons and an electric blaster as a backup weapon.

As we stare down at Stuttgard, waiting to be sent down, I close my eyes momentarily, blocking out the sight of the rioting. You need to focus, I tell myself. You need to focus, for you won't get another chance. There are no do-overs. You have one chance to fix the Balance, one last chance to show your true loyalty.

The little voice in my mind can't resist asking, Where does your true loyalty lie, Loki?

I don't know. I don't know. I don't like trusting people, with only a couple exceptions. Gamora, for one – at least, in the past. My mother. Peter and Cassie and Hogun and Pietro, they all had a little bit of trust. Hela, during the Contest, because I had no choice. And Veers, for no good reason besides admiration and then our alliance.

But loyalty? Do I trust someone enough to be loyal to them? I wrack my brains and come up empty. The only one who comes even close is Frigga. Even loyalty to Gamora is uncertain at the moment. I suppose the only person I am truly loyal to is myself, the only person I can completely trust being myself. For if I cannot trust myself, who else can I trust?

How can you even trust yourself? You do not understand half of your own decisions, and waver in between two points of action, first leaning one way and then the other. How can you trust someone who does that?

I shut down that annoying little voice. I can trust myself. I look out for myself, I have to. I have to do what's best for me.

And what's best for me, at the moment, is showing loyalty to Thanos. For now.

And what after? What after, Loki?

"Prepare for landing," Nebula intones, breaking my train of thought. That's good, for I don't know how to answer that little voice.

The Q-ship beams us down, the soft blue light flickering all around us. I wonder briefly if this is what it was like to travel via the Bifrost before it was broken, but I don't get to ponder long before my boots hit the ground. There's no time for thought now, only for action.

"In the name of Thanos, cease your rioting!" Thor bellows.

The people of Stuttgard, armed with a variety of weapons and some with objects that aren't quite weapons, stare at the nine of us for a moment warily, angrily. We're in the middle of a cobbled area, a plaza, situated before a stately building with floor to ceiling glass windows on its second floor. A black banner hangs over one of them, advertising some sort of gala, but part of it is torn and scorched. Several of the window panes are broken, jagged edges gleaming in the warm golden light coming from within. I see a figure silhouetted at one of the windows, watching us with a stony expression, but I can't make out who it is.

Seizing the moment, Wanda steps forward, lifting her hands. "Please, put down your weapons," she pleads. "I understand your anger, but this is...." She purses her lips, her eyes darkening for a moment, before she forces herself to continue. "....This is not the way to go about bringing –"

A blast of energy cuts her off, flinging the Scarlet Witch to the ground. "Traitor!" someone in the crowd shouts. Steve immediately moves forward, offering her a hand as Thor lifts his hammer up and lightning arcs across the sky.

And the battle is on.

Shuri fires sonic shocks from her gauntlets into the crowd as Wanda regains her feet, lifting her hands and summoning her red magic. She begins to whip weapons out of the rebels' hands and hurl people backwards, moving quickly and efficiently. Steve and Thor dive into the fray, shields and hammer slamming into people. Hope vanishes and then suddenly reappears in the midst of the rebels, using the blasters built into her suit before shrinking again and flying through the air. Gamora extends her sword, flinging it out to the side before charging into combat, Nebula gripping her electroshock batons.

Veers is firing photon blasts from her fists as we stand in the middle of the battle, back to back. Although this isn't being filmed for the districts, it is still important we maintain our alliance, our show of companionship. We had already agreed beforehand to stick together in order to keep up the illusion of our romantic partnership.

But as we fight together, I am struck by how natural it all is. Perhaps Veers and I make a horrible couple, but we are completely in sync as allies. I understand why Valkyrie wanted us to get back to that, for when she's watching my back, I don't worry about who's behind me, although I normally would. I don't need to, fighting with Veers.

I thrust and whirl my scepter, lashing out at all rebels in my vicinity. Flashes of light erupt behind me, and I hear the thunder as Thor knocks a group of people over. The battle brings on an adrenaline rush and I almost draw on my magic, but then decide against it. Illusions got me into this mess – I don't need to remind people of them now while I'm still struggling to get out of it.

During the battle, I catch a glimpse of Gamora, her eyes following me and Veers. Only a second, that's all, but it's enough for me to realize that Gamora and I, we have never fought together like this. We're always dueling together, but not fighting back to back.

I want to stop and think about that, but there's no time.

As I grab one man by the collar, knocking away his weapon, his eyes find mine. "Why are you doing this?" he croaks. "We just want freedom!"

"Freedom is life's great lie," I tell him earnestly, feeling a kind of smile come over my lips. I'm suddenly reminded of Cletus Kasady, the serial killer hosting the symbiote Carnage, whose deranged grins must have haunted many nightmares. "Once you accept that, in your heart, you will know peace."

Of course, since I then thrust the sharp tip of my scepter through his chest and then toss away the corpse, this particular rebel doesn't get much of a chance to accept freedom's lie.

I turn away then, relishing in the lie. My sister told me once that I must learn to lie so well no one can tell, and I revel in the success. I felt that lie, although I don't believe it. Freedom is a lie, but only here, only now. Once, it wasn't.

Perhaps freedom will be truth, again. But I cannot afford those thoughts now. Only the lies will keep me alive.

My gaze roves over the battling crowd, lifting toward the figure watching from the window. I narrow my eyes, studying the figure, and then I realize who it is.

Helmut Zemo.

His eyes don't move from mine; he just continues to watch, not actively taking part in the rebellion but not condemning it either. He's just observing the show, perhaps even enjoying it.

Well. If Zemo wants to watch a show, I will give him one.

"Kneel!" My yell carries across the battlefield as I give in to my urge to use magic, the illusionary copies of myself springing up around the edge of the plaza, ringing in the rebels and throwing them into fear and bewilderment. As the people, my fellow champions, and the daughters of Thanos glance at me in utter confusion, I slam the butt of my staff against the ground, the blue stone flaring with light and causing the staffs of my multiple illusions to glow. "Kneel!"

Startled, the rebels do as I say.

No one is more startled than me at that outcome.

I have to grin to hide my shock, and again, I feel like Kasady, giving a manic smile that shows how completely unhinged he is. I feel that unhinged right now, I feel that insane, but there's nothing I can do to stop. There are only words, only lies. So I begin speaking.

"Is this not better? Is this not your natural state? The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power." I pause, feeling like I don't have enough air, but I manage to continue. "For identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel. You will always bow to Thanos."

One man stands at that, looking at me with a grim expression. "We will not bow to Thanos. Not anymore."

"But you just did," I remind him, my grin only wavering slightly. I can feel the eyes of Steve, Wanda, Hope, Shuri, Thor, Veers, Gamora, and Nebula on me, but I don't remove my gaze from the old man.

"He didn't ask us to kneel," the man says. "We didn't kneel to the Balance, but to the breaking of it."

"My loyalty is to Thanos," I tell him, and I feel my chest heave as I take a breath. This is all off, I know it, and I can feel the grains of sand in my hourglass draining out, faster by the second. This is it. My last chance, slipping through my fingers like water, rippling away like an illusion.

"How can your loyalty be to someone who you openly oppose?" the man questions, and I have no answer for him.

"Kill him," Nebula says, and I almost jump, because I didn't hear her sneak up on me. "Do it, Loki."

I lift my scepter, aiming it at him, knowing I can fire off a blast that will end his life. His eyes widen slightly, as if he knows the end is near, but then I can't do it. He's right, after all, and nothing I do can change that.

"Do it." Nebula's raspy voice is quiet but hard.

Except kill him for his words, for his disrespect. That would go a long way to showing my loyalty, to painting the lie I must tell. But with my scepter pointing at his heart, counting down the remainder of his life in order to stall my own final seconds, I realize I can't do it. I lack the conviction.

I lower the scepter, but the old man doesn't have time to sigh in relief before a hole blasts through his heart.

Nebula lowers her electric blaster, her gaze impassive. "Needed to be done," she states, turning away. "Round up the others for imprisonment."

I turn away, the illusions vanishing, and find Gamora with her eyes on me. And I know that she knows the hourglass has been broken.

It is only a matter of time before my own blood is spilled.