Re: log, Central Park: Loki & Steve R
[The clot of red spat spattered the grass between the men as thick as linseed oil smeared on canvas, smelling of turpentine. It speckled and stippled Steve's boot, but he didn't look down. He knew enough not to turn his attention—not even for a second—from the man-turned-creature circling him like a buzzard does prey. Loki was slippery, he was a snake whose venom came in the form of prized, prism'd words, persuasion and trickery presented under gauze of perfume.
Steve set his jaw in a twinge of muscle and bone compressed, chin tipped down, watching.] Loki. [It came as a warning, but not in time.
He saw the orbit intended, the ellipsis of intended path to target, as Loki shifted, a sand-snake.] No! [Steve lunged, trying to catch the demigod before he could even start toward the poor man still being dragged away by a group of struggling agents. The poor men and women were battling trees as they tried to pull from the park.—Things had been growing steadily more insane, reality as Steve understood it shattered and put back together by the blind, dumb fingers of some madman. The fact that trees in Central Park were battling S.H.I.E.L.D. agents should have shocked him more than it did.
The shield was thrown, and it sliced through the air, before sawing through the ugly, scabby hands of branches—and as it went, Steve's fist went for Loki's kidney (did Asgardians have kidneys?).]