The god of mischief hadn't really expected his day to go so badly. Or maybe he had, his life hadn't exactly been great lately. Plus his actions didn't make him the most liked god around. He had caused enough trouble to have people hate him. Loki was sure he had a large amount of enemies. So being attacked by one of them maybe was expected after all. Though it still wasn't his idea of a good day. He knew it wasn't easy just to stop being the kind of guy that he was.

Tired and injured Loki trudged through New York city alone. He wanted to be back in his bed in Asgard, But he had lost that right when he got himself banished. He coughed as he struggled to breath. His ribs were broken and he had gashes on his leg and chest. He felt awful really. But he wasn't sure anybody would help him. He had caused alot of the mortals to fear him. If there was anybody out there that didn't know he was, he didn't know about them. He was shivering a bit as he carried on walking. He wasn't sure if he could get help at a hospital. His powers were to low to do anything to control them and he felt too weak to threaten.

His legs wobbled. He knew he couldn't stay upright, He fell to his knees , pale and sweaty, He felt miserable from pain. He closed his eyes and collapsed . He knew alot of people would want him dead. Maybe he wasn't going to survive this. He coughed again struggling to breath. He fainted and lay on the cold ground. His wounds bleeding and his body broken. He was dreaming that somebody came to save him. He knew that would never happen.

Loki seemed to shiver while passed out, His dark hair was seeming messed up and he looked in pain. He groaned a bit. He was in bad shape, his enemy had made sure to hurt him quite badly it seemed. He soon was dreaming of being back home in Asgard, he knew that would not happen, even if Thor found him injured , he doubted his brother would be able to convince Odin to let him come home. LOki was outcast and he felt like nobody cared.