*A man sauntered in, his slightly curled, fluffy black hair brushed back and bordering his golden, goat-like horns which adorned his head. His icy, examining blue eyes, slight wrinkles creasing the outer corners-most likely from age-gave his striking, handsome face a more powerful air.

A black suit coat resided unbuttoned over a sleek, clover-green vest, which covered most of the surface of his white undershirt. A green tie, matching the vest, was tucked into the front of the vest. Unidentifiable patterns marked the tie, and a golden clip held it in place. The right shoulder of his suit coat was torn, the left coat sleeve shredded, showing the white undershirt beneath. On the left side of his suit coat, a shining button, striped red, white, and blue, read the bold black letters LOKI FOR PRESIDENT over the surface. He wore black pants which matched his suit coat.

In his right hand, he held a perpetually sharpened dagger, the handle golden and laced with intricate markings. The blade itself was shining silver, and the tip of his index finger tapped lightly against the deathly pointed tip.*

Going after Fenris Wolf, my son to be more specific, is a death sentence. Don’t be idiots, all of you. Fenris is invulnerable until the dawning of Ragnarok, anyways. And trying to kill him will anger Jormungand. And me.

Don’t be fools. Unless you want your time to come within a few days, I suggest you leave Fenris alone.

- President Loki