Marvel: Familia System

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The conversation shifted as Odin rose from his throne, his imposing presence drawing the room's focus. "Thor," he called, his voice resonating without effort. "And you, Nero. Follow me."

The group exchanged glances. Anthony muttered, "What, no group invite? Rude."

Donald ignored the comment, stepping forward as Nero fell into stride beside him. They followed Odin through a side passage, the golden doors closing behind them with a low thrum. The hallway was quieter here.

Odin led them to a smaller chamber, its walls adorned with intricate carvings of the Nine Realms. A single table stood at the center, and to their surprise, a laptop sat on it, open and active. The sight of the modern device amidst Asgardian grandeur was almost comical.

"To be honest," Odin began, gesturing to the laptop, "I summoned you for two reasons. First, I wanted to meet the companions of my son. Refreshing, I must say. They're… spirited."

Nero glanced at Donald, who gave a half-shrug. "They're good people," Donald said simply.

Odin nodded, though his gaze remained fixed on the laptop. "Second, I require assistance. This..." He hesitated, his expression briefly betraying something akin to frustration, "This contraption has bested my efforts."

Donald arched an eyebrow. "You mean the laptop?"

"Yes, the lap top," Odin repeated, the unfamiliar word sitting awkwardly in his mouth. He turned the screen toward them, revealing a cluttered desktop with dozens of open tabs. "Do either of you know this name?" He pointed to a window displaying a forum. The screen read, All Father Mokami—Creator of Worlds and Beyond.

Donald blinked. "You called us here… for this?"

Odin's eye narrowed. "Do not mock me, Thor. This 'All Father Mokami' claims dominion over creation. My dominion. He answers questions from mortals as if he were a god."

Nero leaned closer, scanning the screen. The posts were cryptic riddles and oddly practical advice on crafting and life. "I've seen worse. He doesn't seem dangerous—just another online persona."

"Persona or not," Odin grumbled, "his arrogance grates on me. The mortals think him a god of creation. And worse—" He clicked through several tabs, each more chaotic than the last. "—his following grows, unchecked."

Donald exhaled slowly. "You're annoyed because someone's pretending to be a god on the internet?"

"Not pretending. Mocking," Odin corrected, his voice sharp. "Yet I lack the means to track him. Asgard's magic does not extend to your technological web. It is… vexing."

Nero straightened, crossing his arms. "You want me to find him?"

Odin hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. You seem... capable. And more attuned to Midgardian methods."

Donald looked between them, incredulous. "You're asking a mortal to hunt down a troll. Do you even hear yourself?"

Odin's gaze turned steely. "Do not underestimate the influence of words, Thor. This individual undermines divine authority. If left unchecked, their mockery will breed disorder."

Nero smirked faintly, tapping the edge of the laptop. "This is less about the influence and more about bruised pride, isn't it?"

Odin said nothing, but his silence spoke volumes.

Donald pinched the bridge of his nose. "All right. Let's say Nero helps. What exactly do you want done?"

"I want him exposed," Odin said firmly. "To reveal himself as the fraud he is. Once unmasked, his influence will wither."

Nero stifled a laugh as he leaned over the laptop and started clicking through the tabs. "Let's see what your internet god has to say," he muttered, his tone light. A few moments later, he pulled up a series of videos. The screen flickered with clips of a figure dramatically conjuring objects seemingly out of thin air, accompanied by overly polished sound effects.

Donald leaned in, his eyes widening at one particular clip where the figure created a fully animated humanoid form. "Whoa." His voice carried genuine shock and disbelief.

Nero tilted his head, watching the sequence unfold. "Looks like CGI to me," he said matter-of-factly, pointing out the overly smooth transitions and impossible lighting effects in the video.

"CGI?" Odin asked, his expression a mix of suspicion and confusion. "What is that?"

Donald straightened, glancing at his father. "Computer-Generated Imagery. It's fake—illusionary images made with machines."

Odin frowned, clearly unimpressed. "So, this 'Mokami' deceives mortals with magical machines?"

"Not magic," Nero corrected. "Just clever tech and maybe a bit of editing flair. It's like storytelling, except with moving pictures."

Donald nodded. "Mortals use it to entertain themselves, sometimes even to mislead others."

Odin's frown deepened as he regarded the laptop again. "To mislead is a coward's tactic. Why do so many believe in him if his power is false?"

Nero shrugged, casually scrolling through more content. "Most people don't look too closely. They see something flashy and just accept it. Half the time, it's about the presentation, not the truth."

"Presentation," Odin muttered, almost to himself, as though the word left a bitter taste. "And you are certain this 'CGI' is the source of his supposed power?"

Nero paused, watching another video where Mokami theatrically summoned a glowing orb. The angle cut mid-motion, the lighting inconsistent. He shook his head. "Ninety-nine percent sure. The guy's putting on a show. It's well-done, but it's just smoke and mirrors."

After Nero demonstrated that Mokami's supposed powers were nothing more than digital illusions, Odin's frustration dimmed. The All-Father leaned back in his chair, a mix of irritation and reluctant amusement crossing his face.

"So," Odin said, gesturing toward the laptop, "this is what mortals now deem divine? Parlor tricks and glowing orbs?" His voice carried an edge, but the situation's absurdity wasn't lost on him.

Donald, standing to the side, crossed his arms. "It's not about divinity, Father. Mortals don't actually believe this Mokami is a god. They're entertained by him."

Odin's gaze sharpened. "Entertained? They cheer for falsehoods and illusions?"

Nero smirked faintly, closing the laptop. "It's not that deep. They know he's a showman, not a god. They're in on the joke. There's no true challenge to your authority, All-Father. These mortals may call him 'creator,' but it's their way of escaping reality. Harmless, wouldn't you agree?"

Odin let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his temple. "Harmless, perhaps. But undignified. What kind of world celebrates such nonsense?"

"An interesting one," Nero said lightly, earning a sharp glance from Donald.

Returning to the feast, Nero rejoined his friends at their table, observing the group's lively antics. Diego, now sporting an intricately woven braid courtesy of Sif.

"Behold!" Diego declared, tilting his head dramatically. "The Brave and the Braided stands before you."

Anthony smirked, swirling the goblet of mead in his hand. "You look like you lost a bet."

"I think it's an improvement," Maria added, resting her chin on her hand. "It makes him look... less unbearable."

"Flattered," Diego said, shooting her a grin.

Nero watched the banter with amusement, cutting a slice of roasted meat from the platter in front of him. Before he could join the conversation, the energy in the room shifted. A hush fell over the crowd as a figure entered the hall.

Loki strolled in, his movements unhurried, eyes gleaming. His green and gold robes caught the flickering light, the faintest hint of mischief playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Fantastic," Donald muttered under his breath.

"Who's that?" Sofia asked, her voice low.

Sif leaned closer, whispering, "Loki. The god of mischief and chaos. Donald's charming brother."

"Charming is a stretch," Donald said.

Loki's gaze swept over the hall, lingering momentarily on Odin and Frigga before sliding to Donald's table. A smirk curled his lips as he sauntered toward them.

"Thor," Loki said smoothly, his tone carrying both mockery and familiarity. "Welcome back to Asgard. How wonderful of you to finally grace us with your presence."

Donald's jaw tightened, but he forced a smile. "Brother. It's good to see you haven't changed."

"And you," Loki replied, his eyes flicking to the others at the table. "Your... companions. How quaint."

Diego licked his lips, openly appraising Loki. "Me likey."

Loki turned his gaze to Diego, his smirk widening. "Is it awe I see, mortal?"

Diego chuckled, leaning slightly forward. "Something similar. Wanna chat somewhere else?"

Maria groaned audibly, resting her head in her hands. "Diego, can you not?"

"Oh, let him," Anthony said, throwing his arm over the back of his chair. "I'm dying to see how this trainwreck plays out."

Loki's smirk didn't waver as he looked Diego up and down. "Bold, aren't you? Rarely does a mortal offer such… invitations. But alas, I don't mingle with every admirer."

Diego shrugged, unbothered. "Your loss. You don't know what you're missing."

"Are you actually flirting with the god of mischief?" Sofia asked, not even trying to hide her disbelief.

"Flirting?" Diego said, feigning surprise. "You call this flirting? I'm being polite. Wait till I turn on the charm."

"I don't think the Nine Realms are ready for that," Maria muttered, earning a few chuckles from the group.

Loki tilted his head, clearly enjoying the exchange. "Your group is… unique. I see why my dear brother keeps your company. Entertaining, if nothing else."

Diego laughed at that. "See? He likes me too." He flashed a grin, clearly undeterred by Loki's reputation. "Though, between us, I think you're underselling yourself. Mischief and chaos? A little narrow, don't you think?"

Loki tilted his head, his expression one of mild amusement. "Oh? And what would you suggest, mortal?"

Diego leaned back, feigning deep thought. "I don't know. Maybe a little pizzazz. Something theatrical. Chaos is great and all, but have you ever considered adding a touch of… flamboyance?"

Maria rolled her eyes. "Diego, stop. You're going to make him regret walking over here."

"He's enjoying it," Diego countered, pointing at Loki. "Look at him. That's the face of someone who appreciates the finer art of banter."

Anthony shook his head, biting back a laugh. "Or someone sizing up whether you're worth turning into a frog."

"I would never waste such talent on amphibious transformation," Loki cut in smoothly, a smirk playing on his lips. "Though, I will admit, it's rare to find mortals with such… audacity."

"You see? He gets it," Diego said, gesturing toward Loki as though they were old friends.

Maria leaned toward Sofia, whispering, "I give it five minutes before Diego asks for fashion tips."

"I'll bet three," Sofia replied dryly.

Loki's sharp eyes darted to Maria and Sofia. "Ah, but the quiet ones often have the sharpest tongues. And you," he said, focusing on Maria, "seem particularly adept at biting commentary."

Maria raised an eyebrow. "I call it common sense."

Diego interjected, "I call it being boring, but hey, to each their own."

Maria kicked him lightly under the table. "You're proving my point."

Anthony leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "So, Loki, what's the occasion? Do you just crash parties, or is this your usual way of saying hi?"

Loki's gaze shifted to Anthony, and for a brief moment, his smirk faltered. "I rarely do anything 'usual.' But let's say I was… curious. My dear brother has been absent from Asgard for so long, and when he finally returns, he brings this." He gestured vaguely toward the group. "How could I resist?"

Nero chuckled, watching Loki and Maria clash from the get-go. It was fitting, really—Maria, the Mist Guardian of the Family, had a knack for illusions that could rival even the god of mischief himself. Though she lacked divine status, Nero wouldn't be surprised if she managed to trap Loki in one of her creations. The thought was amusing enough to keep him engaged.

Loki's smirk widened as he shifted his attention fully to Maria. "Tell me, mortal," he said, voice laced with condescension, "do you often accompany Thor on his grand adventures, or is this your first time pretending to be useful?"

Maria leaned back in her seat, unimpressed. "Pretending? That's bold coming from the god whose biggest claim to fame is losing to his brother every other day."

Anthony choked on his drink, coughing as Diego grinned. "Oh, she got you there," Diego said, gesturing with mock applause.

Loki's expression flickered briefly, but he recovered quickly. "A sharp tongue, I see. But sharpness without wit is as dull as a blade without edge."

Maria shrugged, her tone dry. "Good thing I've got both, then."

Diego leaned closer to Nero. "Ten coins says she makes him fold before the feast is over."

"I'm not betting on something that obvious," Nero replied, smirking.

Loki raised an eyebrow, his attention drifting momentarily to Nero before returning to Maria. "And what of you?" he asked, gesturing vaguely at the group. "A curious mix of mortals. I wonder what drives such an eclectic ensemble to follow Thor."

Anthony, leaning back in his chair, decided to answer first. "The free meals, mostly. The rest of this? Bonus points."

"You're remarkably flippant for someone in the presence of gods," Loki said, narrowing his eyes.

Anthony took another sip of his drink. "You mean gods like you? If I'm not mistaken, you spend half your time locked up, and the other half making everyone else miserable. Doesn't exactly inspire awe."

Nero shook his head. "Don't confuse Norse myths with reality. Those stories you've heard might not even be close to the truth."

Donald nodded in agreement. "Most of the myths about Asgard, about me, were exaggerated. When my memories were sealed, I heard countless tales, and now… well, let's just say the truth often pales compared to the legends." He glanced at Loki with a faint smirk. "Even the ones about him."

Loki's sharp eyes turned toward Donald. "Ah, dear brother, the ever-glorious Thor speaking kindly of me? Must be a feast day indeed." He folded his arms, his tone dripping with mock sincerity. "But do go on. Enlighten these mortals with your revelations."

Donald waved him off. "Not everything is a competition, Loki."

Loki leaned slightly closer, his smirk widening. "Of course not. I always win anyway."

Maria chuckled softly, catching Loki's attention again. "Seems like the myths got one thing right—he's insufferable."

"Insufferable?" Loki repeated, pretending to be wounded. "What a cruel word from one so sharp. Tell me, is this how you treat all your hosts, or am I special?"

Maria didn't miss a beat. "Special, definitely. I don't waste good sarcasm on just anyone."

Anthony grinned, nudging Sofia. "You taking notes? This is a masterclass."

Sofia rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at her lips. "I'm more interested in how long before Maria convinces Loki to leave the table."

"Leave?" Loki said, feigning shock. "Why would I leave when the entertainment is just beginning?" He turned back to Maria, clearly enjoying the banter. "But tell me, mortal, if you find me insufferable, what word would you use for my dear brother?"

Maria glanced at Donald, the mischief in her eyes gleaming like a hunter spotting easy prey. Donald, recognizing that look, froze mid-shiver. "No!" he blurted, holding up a hand as though to physically stop her.

Maria grinned, unfazed. "He's a cutie patootie."

The words echoed louder than they should have in the grand hall. Loki's laughter erupted instantly, rich and uncontrolled. He leaned against the nearest surface, holding his stomach. "Oh, this is gold!" he said between breaths, his amusement filling the room.

Donald's face reddened, but the glare he directed at Maria held no real anger. "We're in Asgard!" he hissed. "Can you not?"

Maria leaned back, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "What? You don't like it when I'm honest?"

While his memory was sealed, Donald had been a shadow of himself—a crippled man without purpose, barely clinging to life. It was Nero who pulled him from that darkness, a quiet presence who refused to let him fall further. Maria, who had always been like an older sister to Donald back then, often used to tease him with absurd nicknames to cheer him up. "Cutie patootie" had been one of those abominations, a private joke that somehow survived the years. But here, in the grand halls of Asgard, the term felt like an unforgivable betrayal.

Loki's laughter still rang through the hall, drawing more attention than Donald could tolerate. Asgardians nearby turned, their curious stares adding fuel to the fire of his embarrassment.

"Maria!" Donald hissed, his face a mix of irritation and mortification. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Maria shrugged, her smirk unwavering. "It's what big sisters do. You're just mad because it's true."

Anthony, still clutching his goblet, shook his head in mock disbelief. "So this is Thor, mightiest of the gods? Defeated not by frost giants or dragons, but by a nickname."

"You're all children," Donald muttered, glaring at Maria. "And you! Don't bring up that nickname here. Ever."

Loki raised his hand, his smirk returning. "Now, now, I would very much like to learn more about this cutie patootie business."

Donald shot him a glare that could freeze Helheim. "You wouldn't."

Maria leaned back with a teasing smile. "Why not? It suits him. But don't get too haughty, Muffinhead. You're just another one of those."

The laughter around the table hit a momentary lull as Loki's eyes narrowed. "Muffinhead?" His voice dipped, taking on a sharper edge. "Careful, mortal. You wouldn't want to step on a god's toe."

Maria met his gaze calmly, her smile unwavering. "Wouldn't dream of it. But if you're as sensitive as you look, maybe you should sit this one out."

Loki's expression flickered, the usual smirk threatening to twist into something colder. But before he could retort, Maria gave the faintest tilt of her head, her voice lilting as she added, "After all, it's hard to banter when your head's stuck in the clouds."

Loki blinked, pausing as if something caught his attention. His eyes flitted toward the ceiling for a brief second, then back to Maria. His brow furrowed, just slightly, the first sign of unease creeping in.

"Something wrong?" Maria asked, her tone light.

Loki's gaze shifted again, this time sweeping the room as though searching for something. The faintest flicker of doubt crossed his face. "I…" He stopped, shaking his head. "Nothing. Forget it."

Loki suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. The touch made him shiver involuntarily. He spun around quickly, and his eyes widened when he saw himself standing there. "Are you okay?" the illusion asked, voice carrying the same casual inflection as Loki's own.

His shock wasn't from the appearance but from what he felt. The hand on his shoulder—he felt it. A surge of cold clarity washed over him as he realized the truth. The body he was currently in wasn't real. He had been projecting an illusion ever since stepping into the hall, yet somehow this stranger's trick had touched his fake form. It shouldn't have been possible.

The realization unsettled him. His sharp gaze flicked back to Maria, who was watching him with an air of amused detachment.

"Clever," Loki said, his voice losing its teasing tone. He dismissed the illusion of himself with a wave, the false Loki flickering and vanishing like smoke. "I underestimated you. That won't happen again."

Maria didn't flinch, keeping her tone light. "You're assuming I didn't want you to notice eventually."

"Did you enjoy this little game?" Loki asked, stepping closer. "Because I assure you, I play them better."

uddenly a chuckle rippled through the air. "Now now," Nero said as he walked up behind Maria and wrapped his arms around her. He rested his chin on her shoulder, speaking in a tone that carried no weight of concern but all the presence of a storm cloud. "It's fun getting Loki flustered, but I find it annoying when he starts threatening my girlfriend. Makes me think I should get angry."

Loki's gaze shifted to Nero, unimpressed as he straightened his posture. "And what, pray tell, would happen if you got angry?"

Nero didn't answer. Instead, he shrugged, a gesture so unbothered it was insulting. Loki's smirk began to return when his world shifted violently. For a fraction of a second, everything tilted, and the ground felt as if it disappeared. 

"I wouldn't recommend it," came a voice. It wasn't loud, but it resonated from everywhere, a force that bent the space around him.

Loki was about to retort when the air around him shifted, a strange sensation prickling at the edges of his awareness. His vision blurred, and for a moment, he wasn't standing in a grand Asgardian hall but suspended in an endless expanse of sky. His balance faltered as his world turned over, a crushing weight pressing down on him from everywhere and nowhere. A voice followed, disembodied yet impossibly vast. "You wouldn't like the consequences."

The sensation was gone as quickly as it came, leaving Loki standing in the hall once more. His breath hitched, though he masked it quickly.

His sharp gaze swept the group, lingering briefly on Nero and Maria. Then, as if deciding it wasn't worth pressing further, he turned to Donald.

"Dear Brother," Loki began, his smirk returning with a hint of disdain, "you've gathered quite the entertaining group. At least when the mortals bore you, you can entertain yourself in their illusions."

"Thanks, Loki," Donald said, voice flat. "Always appreciate your support."

Loki chuckled lightly. "And here I thought I was being generous. But do enjoy your feast. I'm sure this colorful cast will keep you amused."

Without waiting for a response, Loki turned and sauntered off, his presence fading into the crowd of Asgardians.

Anthony tilted his head, watching Loki disappear. "So that's the famous god of mischief? Honestly, a little underwhelming."

Diego smirked. "I don't know. I think he liked me. We had a connection."

Maria snorted. "Right. A connection. Between his ego and your inability to shut up."

Diego gestured dramatically. "All great relationships start somewhere."

Sofia, who had been quietly observing, chimed in, "If by 'great relationship,' you mean irritating a god into possibly turning you into an animal, then yeah, you nailed it."

"I'd make a great animal," Diego shot back. "Maybe a wolf. Or a hawk. Something majestic."

"More like a peacock," Anthony muttered, earning a laugh from Maria.

Donald pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why do I even put up with you guys?"

"Because you love us," Maria said sweetly, then added with a smirk, "Cutie patootie."

"Maria," Donald warned, his voice tight.

"Thor," she corrected, still grinning. "Don't want to upset your father by using the wrong name, do we?"

Donald sighed heavily, his patience clearly running thin. Nero stepped in before the banter could escalate further.

"Let him be," Nero said, still leaning against the table. "We're guests in a realm that isn't exactly known for its tolerance of mortal humor."

Diego raised an eyebrow. "Speak for yourself. I think they loved me."

Anthony snickered. "Pretty sure Sif was seconds away from braiding your ego into a noose."

Before Diego could retort, a sudden commotion drew their attention. At the far end of the hall, a group of Asgardian warriors had gathered, their raised voices muffled by the general din of the feast. Odin, still seated on his throne, gestured for quiet, his sharp gaze narrowing.

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