A/N: I wanted to try this one again, since my brain refuses to let it go. This one was formerly titled "Never Gone," but I find the current title more fitting. I know many people didn't take to this story when I initially posted it, but I suppose I'm writing this one more for me than anyone else; I'm okay with that. Well, for me and for my ever-supportive and insistent young pupil (love you, Cirus!). Much of this story is the same as it was, but I did go back and change a few elements. It's twisted, it's confusing, but it will make sense much later on. If it peaks your interests, great; drop me a review and let me know if you like what you see. Thanks, all.
OOOOOOOOOO
The city of Kalamazoo, Michigan was under attack. There had been no warning, no sign of what was to come that day, only the rising clouds of smoke and dust indicating the spread of destruction in the otherwise minor place.
People were dead in the streets. Many of them. Some had been slain, throats slit or stab wounds to the chest. Others were crushed by falling debris from crumbling buildings. Streets stained red with innocent blood. Those still alive fled in terror, the intensity of their screams drowned out by intermittent explosions.
They ran. Out of fear, they ran from their pursuers as they were chased down, one by one. Strange, tall beings ran rampant through the city, smashing vehicles, growling like animals, slaying any in their paths and—to the shock and horror of those who witnessed—blasted some sort of freezing power from their hands! Effortlessly, they were freezing some of the people who attempted to escape, trapping them inside massive misshapen icicles. What terrible power was this? Who were these blue-toned beings who were clearly not of this world?
Why, of all the significant places on Earth, were they attacking here?
Nothing was safe. Not even West Bloom Middle School was spared, a once proud school resembling ruins of a war-stricken structure. Pandemonium erupted and sent staff and students scattering across the campus like ants. Despite the best efforts of adults, several students lay dead on the ground. Horrified classmates howled in disbelief over those deceased, tears streamed down frightened faces as teachers tried to pry them away from the massacre; many were reluctant to leave their friends' sides.
Loki, Asgardian God of Mischief, was unconcerned with the displays of emotion from the young mortals. He walked past them, quite unfazed by the violence surrounding him. This was not about signaling a desire for world domination again. This time was different; he had other intentions in mind for these humans.
Letting the Frost Giants do his bidding, he traversed the streets toward the site of a nearby explosion. An explosion which had left several humans strewn about the street. Some had died instantly. A corpse lay in his path, and he glanced scornfully at the filthy, blood-speckled mass in his way. With a wave of his hand, the body flew off to the side. Those unhurt scrambled to their feet and herded straying children to safety, or as close to safety as they could get. Some suffered injuries that didn't allow them to stand; from a short distance, he noted they were just as filthy as the corpse he'd disposed of. It was they who Loki approached, slowly, deliberately, not in a hurry to ease their suffering.
Frost Giants surrounded the remaining survivors, weapons of ice materializing on their hands and arms, looks of distress appearing on the humans' faces as they closed in on them. Closer. Closer. Like rabbits surrounded by a nest of snakes, waiting for the deadly strikes to begin. Loki didn't signal for them to execute, though. No, he had something better in mind for these peons, for they exemplified exactly what he was seeking. They were pathetically crawling, stumbling to their feet if they could, only to be knocked back down by icy fists. The Frost Giants knew it wasn't necessary to detain the weakened ones yet, just keep them clustered together.
"Noble hearts," Loki finally addressed the captives, "sacrificing your own well-beings for the sake of youths without a second thought. Inspiring," there was a slight edge of mockery in his tone. The look of recognition on their faces was unmistakable. His was an image known to them from the attack on New York City a few years ago. Television footage had revealed the war criminal in many reports, and though his attempt at world domination failed, they understood the danger accompanying his presence. For this, Loki was pleased. "You are all noble indeed." Movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. A man attended to an injured woman on the ground, paying little heed to the surrounding giants as he gave her what aid he could. Her leg was bleeding profusely, and though her face was strained, she did not cry. She was also the only survivor not looking at him. Loki raised an eyebrow. "Especially you."
He saw her shoulders tense, knowing it was she whom he addressed. Yes, he'd seen her protecting a child along with the rest of them, had watched her bravery until the explosion separated them. While she sustained injury, she had ordered the child to go, caring more about his life than hers. Noble, indeed, and mildly amusing. But this had been characteristic of all of them. Why, then, had she become his focal point?
He glanced at the man, whose eyes were on him. Loki used this to his advantage and scanned his mind, searching for a specific piece of information. Ah, there it was: Anna Mason.
As he drew nearer, the man placed a protective hand on Anna's shoulder, to which Loki responded by hitting him with a force that sent him flying backwards several yards. She gasped at his sudden absence, seeing where he had crashed, then cried out when Loki placed his boot atop her wounded leg. The pressure wasn't enough to break bone, but the severed nerves were on fire. To her credit, she gritted her teeth and bore the pain with as much dignity as she could muster.
He smirked. "Noble and strong is this frail creature in the face of adversity. Very good."
Sucking in a breath, she finally turned to identify her tormentor. As soon as she locked eyes with him, that same look of dread that had been present in the others overcame her countenance. She, too, recognized him from the earlier attack on Earth. Her lips trembled as she managed to harshly whisper, "Oh…God…"
A wicked grin spread across his face. "Precisely." Removing the pressure from her leg, he uttered, "She'll do; bring them," and the Frost Giants hoisted up their hostages effortlessly.
Just in time, several reporters arrived on the scene, their cameras and crew capturing every moment of devastation in the downtown area. This greatly satisfied Loki, for now these events would be documented for the world see. It would also serve to catch the attention of the one he wanted to see.
As the cameras rolled, Loki gestured to the alien beings. Throbbing pain still fresh in her leg, Anna watched as each hostage—most of them her co-workers—had blades of ice pressed menacingly against their necks. They waited, biding their time until Loki gave further orders. He could see her vision dart wildly from person to person, horrified recognition dawning in her eyes. Oh yes, perception served her well, and he certainly would not disappoint. Bringing his hand down, the giants slashed the humans' throats, blood spurting from the terrible gashes they left. Anna's jaw dropped, and though she wanted to scream, had to scream, no sound came out. The shock of what she'd seen had robbed her of the ability to do so. Reporters and news crew members filled in the sound for her, hands covering stunned mouths and some looking away, unable to endure what they'd seen.
But Anna had watched. Everything. Not a second had escaped her, and it would forever be engraved in her mind.
Each corpse was carelessly cast aside as the giants came to flank their leader. The entire group of hostages had been slain, save for one man, another woman and Anna, whose teary eyes were still transfixed on the dead. She did not sob or weep; there were only stunned tears rushing down her cheeks.
Loki looked straight into one of the camera lenses with a sinister smile as his hand encircled her throat, squeezing just enough to put strain on her windpipe. When he heard her wheeze softly, he hauled her up until her feet dangled a few centimeters off the ground, and the blood trickled freely down her leg. He stared intently into her face while she gripped at the fingers digging into her neck. It was useless, and her mouth fell further open due to lack of oxygen.
And still, the cameras rolled, capturing every image of human suffering. Loki angled her head so that her full-on visage could be seen, wanting there to be no mistaking her identity.
"Smile pretty for the world," he whispered against her cheek.
Her eyes went wide when something sharp and cold was jammed into her backside. Whether it had been inflicted by him or the huge aliens was unclear. She managed to gasp uncomfortably, and then fell completely limp in his arms. The Frost Giants followed suit and immobilized the other hostages.
In the next instant, Loki, the Frost Giants and their hostages vanished into thin air, leaving the bewildered survivors and news crews to look in astonishment over the remains of the devastated city.