After Loki had flown from the Thames, Pestilence had walked the streets of London, distributing some minor colds and flu and wondering what to do next. She could never allow herself to reach that position again, devoid of resources and waiting for a white knight to save her
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His orders were simple: punish Pestilence for her behaviour.
He landed soundlessly in the field, no more than five metres behind her, the pigs who were roaming calmly before starting to back away, squealing in fear. They understood what he was there for, could feel it pouring off him in waves.
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"Loki?"
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"Loki? Are you all right?"
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