[Pain in the Metaverse is temporary. All wounds heal upon exiting the cognitive world, skills and simple meals able to cure the unthinkable.

Pain in reality isn't temporary. Isn't easily cured. He holds it close. Craves it, now that it's pressed into his gut and a girl was fully dragged into the rot with him.

He doesn't relent - she fights, he holds tight. The turn jostles his body - stomach churning, fire rising through his chest, the whole front of his shirt darkening with a red, spreading without mercy.

It's so goddamn funny that he laughs.

She's strong - his arm ripped back from her neck, unable to strangle any air out of her. It stays, featherlight against her skin, ready to strike when she makes a mistake. The kick will leave a bruise and-

He's alive. Completely alive. Joy as hard to grasp as the edges of red soaking through fabric. He tries anyway.]

I hate you.

[Slow, soft - he kicks her back. Right at the knee, harder and with intent.]

So fight like you want to live.

[It's the truth. It's a lie. If he wanted her dead, Loki could slice through her body with a single, instant strike.]

Or do you really think your shitty little stab will stop someone like me?