Disclaimer:
Thor the movie, the Avengers and other Marvel characters belong to Marvel Comics and Paramount Pictures. This story was written purely for entertainment purposes and is dedicated to all you rabid Loki fans out there. (w00t) ;D
***The events, characters, organizations and any other names depicted in this story are fictitious. Any similarities to actual persons, living or dead or to actual organizations and events is purely coincidental***
Thor, the Avengers and supporting cast personalities are based from the movies, my own personal touch and some selected references to canon Norse Mythology that I credit to the comprehensive website: triple w dot timeless myths dot com slash norse slash index dot html. (I mean no offense to purists out there for my liberal interpretations. I've definitely let and my bizarre imagination run away on this one. ;D)
Much of the fascinating 'filler' Norse lore I credit to the websites: triple w dot northernshamanism dot org slash general slash welcome dot html and triple w dot northernpaganism dot org slash. (I mean absolutely no disrespect to any of the spirit-workers and their practices or to any of the Norse gods and goddesses or residents of the Nine Worlds that I've included in this work of fiction.)
Lastly, this story contains MATURE themes. So, consider yourself warned and don't flame me later. Also, the way I see it, Loki is a being from another universe altogether and his 'moral sensibilities' greatly differ from our own. 'Nuff said.
Without further ado, I suggest leaving your inhibitions behind, sit back, relax and enjoy the read. ^_^
*The events in this story take place after the last scene of the first Thor feature length movie and Iron Man 2.*
Such Fragile Creatures
*Avengers fan-fiction by Kemurikat*
Prologue
The immense disappointment present in the eyes and words of the All-Father were more than he could bear. He knew it was futile to justify the madness of his actions, but a plea had left his mouth before he could stop it.
His entire existence had been a lie. He was nothing but a tool in a failed experiment. An idea born from the whim of Odin the All-Father, who thought that he could raise a Frost Giant as his own flesh and blood.
It was time he corrected that mistake.
Ignoring Thor's cries, Loki released his tenuous hold on the golden spear, Gungnir, his inherited weapon during his brief ascension to the Throne of Asgard. In the eternal moment of his free-fall before the tug of the menacing celestial maelstrom claimed him, he took one final look at the aged Odin who was once his 'father' and to the Asgardian who called him 'brother.'
He would be mourned by those who knew him best...and then forgotten.
Farewell.
Calmly, Loki turned away to meet his Fate, his body hurling rapidly toward the unknown darkness at the center of the spiraling maelstrom caused by the devastating destruction of the Bifrost. His eyes stared bravely forward until he was violently swept away by swirling tendrils of stardust and plunged into nothingness.
Act 01 - The Mortal Coil
It happened so fast, she nearly missed it. Jane Foster stared wide-eyed at the data from an anomalous event that poured across her monitor. The informational parameters closely matched the phenomenon that had brought Thor to her from the Realm of Asgard. Was it him? Was he attempting to return to her? He had promised her that he would and she hadn't doubted the sincerity of his words which were further validated by the sweetest of kisses. She couldn't believe how strongly she loved the strange man and he wasn't even remotely human by definition. Correction, Thor had been mortal when they met and she was certain that he felt the same. He wouldn't have made her such a promise otherwise. She just wished the fabled god of thunder would hurry up before her youth left her.
Her assistant Darcy Lewis had stubbornly remained with her despite an offer she received from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s personnel division for a better paying opportunity. A similar proposal was presented to Professor Erik Selvig but it wasn't the money that motivated him to leave, rather, it was some kind of mysterious object that Colonel Nicholas Fury, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Director, had shown him personally. Jane would've given almost anything to have seen...whatever it was. It was obviously something big enough to immediately capture Erik's full attention, whisking him away from New Mexico.
"Jay-Jay, it's gonna take a while before we can unscramble this shit," Darcy told Foster as she scanned the information on her computer console. "You really think that blip was a lead?"
Many sleepless nights of pouring over data and their more recent shared experience of meeting beings from another universe had bonded the colleagues into good friends.
"I'm positive. My instincts haven't let me down yet, Dare," Jane answered back, hastily scribbling into her little notebook. This is it! I can feel it.
Darcy shook her head and smiled. Maybe someday Jane would know the real reason she stayed behind to help. She procrastinated with the truth because she had way too much fun dodging Jane's questions. Underneath all her outward displays of indifference and bravado, she was secretly a sappy romantic at heart and a sucker for happy endings. Being a 'fly on the wall' for the inevitable drama that was sure to unfold between Jane and Thor was too irresistible to pass up.
"Are your spidey senses tingling?" Lewis teased with a smile.
Jane looked toward her colleague with large, excited eyes. "Big time."
It was all the confirmation Darcy needed.
Loki had never before felt pain and discomfort of this magnitude.
Matter of fact, he had not expected to feel...anything. He had taken his own life and was now being punished by a Higher Power, sentenced to suffer eternal torment in the emptiness of oblivion.
However, his current Fate was much too prosaic and it made him snicker.
That's when he realized that his consciousness wasn't scattered throughout the cosmos...but existed intact.
Wait.
If his mind was whole and he could feel...could it mean that he was...alive?
...if he was alive...
On cue, as if saying the word 'alive' was some kind of celestial light-switch…a great force took a firm hold of his entire being and all doubt left him.
...
..
.
Where was he?
The sounds and smells that surrounded him were unfamiliar. His body felt weak, ill and powerless.
Mortal.
He tried to move.
Bad idea. Much of his body was heavily wounded and the searing pain from his many injuries spread like an inferno, scorching him everywhere in agonizing waves. He couldn't stop the strangled gasp that escaped his lips.
"Hey, hey, hold still. You'll start bleeding again. The thugs that roughed you up did a real number on you."
The gentle voice that spoke to him was female and her manner of speech was strange.
"Just lie still. You have to get some rest." There was a pause and a sharp exhale of breath. "Oh, who the fuck am I kidding! I'm not a doctor. Why the hell didn't I just drop you off at the local hospital? Why'd I have to drag your sorry ass back to my basement apartment, dump you on my bed, thinking I can save you like some fucking hero in a movie!"
The female sounded frustrated and in the throes of hysterics. This was his savior? At least he knew part of the story of how he had arrived. Now, if the female would only calm herself. Her mewling was irritating.
"Pull yourself together, stupid! You can do this, Bryn." She took a few deep breaths till her hiccuping sobs stopped, fanning herself briskly with her hands. "Why do I always end up bringing home the weirdos? Shit." If her annoying landlord Raoul ever found out about her extra tenant, he would definitely have kittens.
"You better not die on me."
Loki felt mortal but he was far from a corpse. Resisting the urge to move his limbs, he focused instead on moving his eyelids, preferably to an open position, yet they felt almost as heavy as Thor's hammer.
Bryn saw the man's eyelids flutter as he tried carefully to open them.
"Hang tight, I'll be right back."
The female's hurried footfalls indicated that she had sprinted out of the room.
It took a pathetically long moment for his blurry vision to adjust itself. Once it did, Loki tried to process what he was looking at and determined that it was the ceiling of a structure decorated by a hanging fixture with globes of various sizes. In the dim light, he couldn't decide if the ceiling's color was grey or white. He cautiously moved his neck and head slightly, allowing his pupils to wander around the female's bedchamber. There was a large picture fastened to the wall next to him on his right, depicting tall windows where he saw buildings of a great height, brightly lit with strange symbols. (Bryn's illusion of a larger space)
The bed he laid upon was moderately comfortable and against a corner wall. There was a worn cabinet of drawers at the foot of the bed. To the left of it was the door to the bedchamber, then another storage area with double-doors that slid apart, which he guessed was her main wardrobe judging by the items he saw hanging inside it. There was a single night-stand table upon which a lit, shaded lamp was placed and positioned next to the bed leveled with his head, and lastly, right beside the bed was a flimsy chair. There wasn't much else. The female's bedchamber was so small that if he were to place it inside his own private bedchamber in Bilskirnir (Thor's hall where he shared space), it would be barely a quarter of his own wardrobe.
He heard noises outside and guessed it was the female fussing about somewhere.
Of the Nine Realms, only one place fit the description of his surroundings. He had somehow fallen into the Realm of Midgard, specifically to Earth, and was now forced to suffer the same fate of banishment as his brother, Thor. No, not banishment. He had meant to deliberately perish within the cosmic maelstrom. Whatever this existence now was...Loki found himself unable to form the words to adequately describe the overwhelming desolation of how he felt.
"Hey, you," the Earthian female said as she slowly approached his bedside. She increased the brightness of the lamp on the night-stand, pulled the flimsy chair closer to the bed and sat down.
His first impression was that the mortal female's features were pleasing, but she appeared tired and a bit unkempt. Most of her hair was piled on the top of her head in a messy heap as strands of various lengths framed her oval-shaped face. She wore baggy clothing with the make and fit of a peasant, the loose folds of fabric hiding the feminine curves of her body. Her eyebrows were neatly trimmed and sculpted, however, and there were traces of cosmetics on her face.
What struck Loki about the mortal female were her eyes. With the reflective light from her lamp, the female's irises were an intriguing shade of the opalescent blue gemstones that adorned one of Frigga's favorite necklaces, one that frequently graced his foster...his mother's throat. It was a necklace made of the whitest ivory decorated with opalescent sky-blue gems which he had presented to Frigga as a gift, a special one he had crafted with his own hands when he was a young boy.
As much as the thought of Odin, his once-father, angered him to the core, he couldn't bring himself to be angry with Frigga. She was a kind and gentle woman, one of the very few Asgardians who took the time to try to get to know him.
"Hi, I'm Bryn. I thought maybe you'd like some water."
The mortal female had returned and now that she mentioned it, he was indeed thirsty.
"Here, lemme help."
He felt his head being carefully elevated and propped up by an extra cushion. She then brought a glass filled with water forward and tapped a narrow, bent, cylindrical thing next to his mouth.
"Go ahead, have a sip. It's Evian," she smiled brightly.
He guessed that 'Evian' was this world's name for water? By 'sip' the female most likely meant doing so using the curious object she was trying to push past his pursed lips.
"Geez, you're acting like you've never seen a straw before," Bryn laughed. "Anyway, I'm not gonna poison you. Here."
The female demonstrated the object's use by drawing liquid through it and swallowing a mouthful. Loki decided that in his present condition it seemed the most practical way to drink, otherwise, he would have water dribbling down his neck.
The female looked relieved when he drank his fill of the water she offered, draining half the glass.
"Y'know, I have no idea if you can even speak English. I mean, I'm always assuming things. I'm silly that way," Bryn said aloud, mostly for herself, shaking her head. The strange, wounded man she brought home had been drifting in and out of consciousness for over a week, saying words out loud in a language she didn't understand. Before that, for nearly three days after she found him, the guy was practically in a coma. "Anyway, um, when you're stronger, we'll have the whole talk thing, okay?" she added, patting her odd guest's shoulder and removing the extra pillow she used to prop his head up, placing the glass of water she held on the night-stand table. "Right. Well, I'm off to bed. Good thing I bought that comfy Ikea couch. I'll, uh, check up on you in the morning. Night."
He watched the female named Bryn leave, closing the chamber's door with a soft click.
'Rest,' she had told him. For the moment, it was a sensible instruction. His mind was foggy, his body was in great pain, his flesh was burning with fever and he felt very tired. He would have to wait for his mortal body to heal itself. After all, it wasn't like he had anywhere else to go. He had whatever time was granted to him in his present form to seek the answers to his questions.
Loki sighed and closed his eyes, his breathing gradually slowing to an even rhythm, his dreams filled with images of a place he once called home.
Natasha Romanoff or better known by her moniker 'The Black Widow,' an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., stood to the side patiently with Virginia 'Pepper' Potts (personal executive assistant to CEO of Stark Industries) as Anthony 'Tony' Stark concluded his meeting in the position of mediator for an overseas merger. After the last person had left the board room, both women promptly took their seats on either side of Stark at the head of a long, rectangular table, their datebooks and data-pads placed within easy reach.
"I think that went well," Tony said proudly, leaning back against his executive leather chair and clasping his hands together contentedly. He glanced toward the attractive redhead seated to his left, grateful to Nick Fury for extending her stay with him. "So, Natalie, what's on the super-secret agenda for today?"
The Black Widow's eyes looked over to Stark with some annoyance. At Col. Nicholas Fury's request, she reluctantly agreed to continue her role as liaison and babysitter to the troublesome multibillionaire, resuming her alternate identity as Natalie Rushman, Pepper's assistant, and scratching off a favor for her long time friend and colleague who was also S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Director.
"I know you don't like me very much. It's too bad because I definitely like you," Tony said with a grin.
"Please, Mister Stark, don't start. I'm really not in the mood," Rushman replied.
"You look tense. I should introduce you to my masseuse, Astrid, she has friends who can - "
Stark jerked in his seat when Natalie slammed the data-pad she held on the table. Pepper barely contained a smile.
"Tony, please, don't aggravate her. Without your Iron Man suit, she can totally kick your ass," Pepper stated, watching as Tony pretended to re-adjust his tie. She made herself comfortable, ready to observe their conversation quietly.
"Returning to your earlier question of our 'super-secret agenda,' I'd just like to update you on recent events that took place in New Mexico," Rushman began.
"Something to do with a town being half-demolished and crazy atmospheric disturbances?" Tony said, looking smug. He had been receiving frequent updates from that area through the artificially intelligent supercomputer currently housed in his mansion's basement named 'Jarvis.' The supercomputer's conception had been a joint project with his father, Howard Stark, one of the few pleasant memories he had of the man.
Recent developments had also brought to light his father's 'side projects', proverbial skeletons in the closet that Tony found rather shocking. Two of the most notable enterprises were Howard Stark's direct involvement in the 'Manhattan Project,' (the world's first atomic bomb) and the success of a classified military research program that created a prototype Super Soldier. (the 1940s war-time super-hero, Captain America)
"Your information's only half accurate. What you aren't aware of is that those atmospheric disturbances resulted in a close encounter with beings from another universe," Natalie replied as Pepper gasped.
Now that got Tony Stark's attention. All joviality left him as he straightened in his seat and stared at Natalie with genuine curiosity. "Any details?"
"It's all here," she answered, pushing her data-pad toward him.
Grabbing it, Stark's eyes quickly devoured the screen as his fingers excitedly scrolled through the information he was reading. "Wow," he muttered. A few moments passed and his brows shot up his forehead as he said out loud, "Fucking Asgard? Are you telling me that all those stories from Norse Mythology are true?"
"Presently, we have no way to confirm that. There are only three people who've had direct contact with the being known as Thor. An astrophysicist named Jane Foster, her assistant Darcy Lewis and their colleague, Professor Erik Selvig."
"I've met Selvig but I haven't heard of Jane Foster."
"Unfortunately, Jane Foster's area of research into celestial phenomena borderlines UFO hunting."
"Uh-huh. So, what's Selvig's involvement in all this?" Tony asked. He had a few run-ins with the man on different occasions when his father was alive.
"Professor Selvig's currently working for S.H.I.E.L.D. on an undisclosed project that's under the direct supervision of Colonel Fury. We'll fill you in on the details once we know more."
"Not even a little hint...?" Tony asked, trying lamely to do a cute 'puppy-dog face.'
"I don't like repeating myself," Natalie said with a frown as she sat back and refused to make eye contact. She then started scribbling something down on her day planner.
"Right," Tony mumbled, scratching his head and turning to face Pepper. "Onto you then, my darling."
Nodding with a smile, Pepper began to confirm his appointments for the rest of the week.
The passage of time seemed irrelevant as Loki drifted in and out of consciousness. Vague images of the waking world and his dreams blended in a cornucopia of disembodied faces, the actions of past sins, jumbled emotions and lingering regret.
He awoke with a start to the sound of something crashing to the floor, the exasperated word 'Shit' following closely after it. Other words followed, no doubt the female had dropped something she wasn't supposed to.
His body was still in great pain and abnormally warm but he felt strong enough to assess more of his condition. His broken right shoulder was bandaged tightly, the limb immobilized. There were dressings around his head and chest, including patches of various sizes all over his body as he flexed the fingers of his left hand and the toes of his feet. That's when he noticed something that truly bothered him.
Where was his armor? How had the mortal female removed the enchanted raiment from his body? That was the first question he would need an answer to.
The garments he wore in place of his armor were lightweight and soft to accommodate his injuries, a similar procedure to what Eir, the Asgardian Healer would do. The mortal female, Bryn, was certainly not remotely comparable to the soothing hands or to the healing skills of the gentle Eir, but so far, he found nothing too clumsy about her attempts to remedy his wounds.
When the mortal female approached the door to the bedchamber, Loki quickly closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. He heard the door creak open as she stepped inside, felt her presence looming over him and her fingers prodding the bandages on his body. Satisfied, she moved in the direction of her closet. The noises and rustling of fabric suggested that she was looking for something to wear. Soon, she left as quietly as she had arrived. In another chamber of the dwelling, the noise of running water was heard. The female must be running a bath. That gave him some time to himself before she decided to visit him again.
His eyes drifted open and Loki sluggishly raised his left arm from under the blanket he was swaddled in. Staring at his hand and arm, his skin had somehow remained that of an Asgardian, a form very similar in appearance to the humans that dwelt on Earth. He would therefore have no trouble blending in with the Realm's population.
Overall...though he should be grateful that he was alive...his present state could only be described as the most cruel of punishments.
Whatever nameless Higher Power spared his life-essence, it extracted from him a monstrous price. It was the final insult and it broke his spirit. No longer immortal, he was doomed to grow old and decrepit as a mortal human, his flesh and bones rotting, forgotten beneath a distant soil. Admittedly, though he hadn't an inkling of his Jotnar heritage, he was even stripped of his very nature as a denizen of Jotunheim!
Loki gritted his teeth as tears of anger and bitterness flowed down his cheeks. He wanted to scream with all his might at the heavens, howling the indignity of an existence to which he was unwillingly bound! Thoughts of ending his wretched new life flitted through his mind but he quickly stamped it out. He wouldn't give whatever nameless force was responsible for his current state the pleasure of that ultimate shame. He would dedicate his short, new life-span to defying the odds against him. He will find his armor, journey to the location where Thor had fallen, find his mortal woman and use her to discover a way to restore what was taken from him so blatantly against his will. It would be a monumental achievement, even for him. For now, he must concentrate on reclaiming his body's strength so that he could at least leave this bedchamber's accursedly lumpy mattress!
Filled with determined vigor, Loki attempted to sit up. The pain that lanced through him made him cry out. Fortunately, the noise of running water was loud enough to prevent the human female from returning to fawn over him.
His left arm shook violently when he used it to lift the upper half of his body to a sitting position. Groaning, his body protested against his efforts, his skin slick with sweat and portions of his disheveled hair fell to cover his face.
In such a lamentable state he was!
Now that his form was human, Loki suspected that he was no longer invisible to Heimdall's powerful eyes and ears, frowning when he imagined the sneer of triumph gracing the Golden Giant's lips. Would the Gatekeeper hasten a report to the All-Father proclaiming that his foster son yet lived, thus informing Odin of his pitiful plight? No. Heimdall would stay silent and simply observe. In his current mortal state, he was no longer of any consequence to the immortal Realm of Asgard.
Someday, Heimdall, I promise you, I will return to stand before you and cleave that smile from your lips. Thor's mortal woman is here, no doubt feverishly seeking to restore the connection to Asgard. Watch as I use her to acquire what I need and discard her as I see fit. I will determine for myself what ridiculous hold this mortal woman has on Thor, and what power she possesses to have changed my brother so radically from the arrogant beast that he was!
It must have been the burning anger within him that allowed Loki to stand, despite how weak, unsteady and dizzy he felt. He clung to the edge of the night-stand with his left hand, trying to find his balance to take a step. He sent the half empty glass of water that was placed there tumbling to the rug-covered floor.
"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Bryn yelled out when she entered the room.
He was so preoccupied by his internal ranting that Loki failed to sense the female's approach. Her loud voice startled him and he lost his balance.
"Shit, shit, shit," Bryn cursed when she nervously caught her wounded charge as he pitched forward, but she wasn't strong enough to support his full weight and they both awkwardly sank to the floor.
The rapid change of movement to his body made Loki gasp and groan, his face grimacing with pain, a tidal wave of disorientation overwhelming him.
"That's what you get for being a complete idiot. You're in no condition to stand, so why'd you even bother? Men! Why the hell are you jackasses so deluded with being invincible, huh? Always leaving it up to the women to clean up after the mess you guys leave behind. Go figure." It was Bryn's turn to rant.
Silence your tongue, woman, and help me stand, Loki scowled.
"Don't you look at me like that. Maybe I'll just leave you here to sleep on the floor then."
You wouldn't dare, he mentally replied, his eyes narrowing defiantly.
"Try me," Bryn warned, correctly interpreting the expression on her strange 'patient's' face. After a moment, she watched his features visibly soften. "Much better. C'mon, here we go. Upsy-daisy. This is gonna hurt you more than it'll hurt me."
Hurt it did. Loki valiantly endured the ordeal of being put back to bed but he couldn't completely suppress his reactions. Never in his existence had he been so pathetically injured and weak to this extent. It was inexcusably humiliating!
Once he was back into bed and settled, he instantly drifted off to a fitful sleep.
Thanking her lucky stars that the towel she had wrapped around her naked body miraculously stayed in place, Bryn flung her long, wet hair over one shoulder and dug into her drawers for a matching pair of undergarments.
During the days her strange guest healed, Bryn went through her routine of diligently attending her two jobs, one as an exotic dancer by day and bartender at night. For the adult entertainment nightclub scene, her good looks allowed her the fortune to land a well-paying position at a reputable downtown establishment as one of their featured attractions. Her bosses were two eccentric owners who meticulously modeled their club's interior as an idealized homage to the Moulin Rouge of Montmartre that opened in 1889 Paris, France. It's posh interior with lavish velvet, leather and crystal wove the enticing spell of a bygone area for its high-paying clientele. Numerous quality replicas of paintings made by Henri Toulouse-Lautrec, historic French painter and lithographer, proudly decorated the club. Bourgeoisie, as the club was named, was a celebrated nightspot and boasted the best, most creative live adult programs in downtown San Francisco.
"I swear, Mars, you should've run off to Vegas with your talent," Bryn yelled over the noise of the music.
"Me? Leave all this? I wouldn't dream of it, dear. What if Alvi heard you? He'd have a fit! You deserve a spanking for even saying that," Marius Casen replied suggestively with a mild Scottish accent. For tonight, he wore a striking, red-patterned, sleeveless shirt over his fit, firm body, red-shaded sunglasses on his heart-shaped face with red and blond highlights in his spiked, dark-brown hair. His dark eyebrows were neatly sculpted, his feet and nails always immaculately trimmed. He took absolute pride in his appearance and did so to constantly seduce his life-partner and, subsequently, others around him.
"I'm sure you'd rather spank Davin over there," Bryn laughed, glancing over to her fellow bartender, a young, muscular, golden-blond twenty-one year old gyrating enthusiastically to the club's trance-y dance rhythm and clad in nothing but a pair of low-rise, tight leather jeans. Davin was handsome, charismatic, a shameless exhibitionist and as virile as any young man his age. She laughed harder when Mars instantly blushed as the blond winked at them.
"I'll get you for that one," Marius replied as he reached over and unsuccessfully tried pinching Bryn who dodged merrily out of the way.
"I'm working over here, go bother someone else."
"Don't forget who signs your paychecks."
Bryn stuck her tongue out in reply.
Laughing, Marius waved a dismissive hand in her direction and walked off to find his longtime business partner and companion, Alvis Werner. Spotting him dancing to the music with a small crowd of scantily clad young men and women, he smiled widely and decided to join him.
Both Marius and Alvis were fond of Bryn Seaver. She was the hardest working young woman they'd ever had the pleasure of employing. Not only was she one of their featured attractions by day, at night she was one of their most popular bartenders. Since she was pulling off an unprecedented double shift on some days, they were more flexible of her schedule. They even occasionally insisted that she took certain days or nights off (with pay) fearing she was overexerting herself. Apart from her impulsive nature, her poor taste in men and her volatile temper, Bryn was intelligent, attractive, playful, a delight to work with, alluringly sexy and extremely good for business.
"You work too hard, girl," Davin said to her as he juggled three bottles of liquor into the air and poured them all into one shot. "Slow down. Trust me, you don't wanna burn out. My older brother did and I tell ya, it was ugly."
"I'm saving up, Dav. I wanna get outta the birdcage I'm in," Bryn said, serving up strong rounds of shots, martinis and their version of the city's famous Pisco Punch.
"You just got here. I thought you liked working here," Davin said with a pout.
"I do! I never said I was leaving this place, just need a major upgrade to where I sleep. It's pathetic."
"You're place isn't so bad. It's small but it's clean and in a decent part of town. Remember Mike's place?" Davin shudders at the memory.
"That dump? I'm so glad he finally moved outta there," Bryn answered.
"Yeah, that place almost got him killed. I can't believe he stayed in an apartment that was crawling with mould. Gross! What a nightmare that was," Davin replied as the small talk between them continued till closing.
Bourgeoisie was a clever design, going from titty bar to dance bar with just a bit of rearrangement. It was Alvis who'd designed it. His interior design and architectural skills came in handy, and combined with Marius's flair and exquisite taste, the two men were unstoppable. Bryn could only guess at their profit margins but despite their large earnings they weren't overtly lavish with their spending. The pair routinely donated to local charities and community outreach programs, paid their hardworking employees generously and treated them with respect. In spite of their flamboyant attitudes and attire, Bryn had never seen Mars or Alvi driving a sports car. She often laughed and teased them about their matching Honda CR-Z hybrids. Not that she had anything against the whole 'Save the Planet' from harmful emissions thing, in fact, she totally supported it. However, for her, nothing compared to the experience of driving a fully customized Classic American muscle car.
Bryn referred to her late father's 1969 Mustang Mach One, a car she'd one day take the time to fully modify. The car was her constant companion since he'd given it to her for her sixteenth birthday. No one would ever guess that a girl like her even knew what a supercharger was, let alone interested in building one from scratch. Her father had a collection of old cars that he'd restored himself, and she often hung out with him in his garage, paying close attention to whatever he'd show her. She discovered that she liked working with her hands, wasn't squeamish about getting absolutely dirty and being a hobby mechanic felt like a natural fit.
In a private VIP booth, Bryn's two overprotective bosses had taken a breather from dancing, chugging down bottles of designer water that an attractively shapely blonde named Jessica Layden had served them. Jessica was Bryn's direct competitor on the dance stage. Since the first day they'd hired her, the young woman had been personally campaigning to become the club's most popular star attraction. Her jealously toward Bryn was quite obvious to everyone and the subject was a constant source of amusement, particularly for the club's eccentric owners.
Tonight, rather than the usual biting gossip that sprung up between Alvis and Marius whenever Jessica was near them, their attention was focused on a more pressing problem.
"Is it just me or does Bryn look more tired than usual?" Alvis observed, leaning in close to whisper in his partner's ear.
"I've noticed it too. I think she's due for another vacation," Marius laughed. "She's going to hate us."
"Isn't it supposed to be the other way around? Shouldn't it be her asking for time off, instead of us 'forcing' it on her?" Alvis chuckled. He settled back in the booth, briefly running his fingers through his longish, sun-lightened brown hair. He had an oval-shaped face with strong, masculine features and a charming, roguish confidence that made him very approachable and also very intimidating when he was in full-on business mode.
"Normally, it would be but I'm not complaining. She's heaven-sent to us. I can't believe she's the same broken girl we found in the park that night, just over a year and a half ago," Marius reminisced.
"Remarkable, isn't it? Little Girl Lost to Empress of Spades," Alvis said proudly, tugging at the lapels of his long-sleeved, lavender, cotton-linen designer shirt that was neatly tucked into his khaki chinos.
"She's one helluva package deal, that girl. I'd take her for myself if I didn't already have you," Marius said, winking playfully.
"I'm so replaceable, am I?" Alvis replied sarcastically. "You, my darling, can be an underhanded bitch sometimes."
"You make it too easy. That's why I can't resist doing it," Marius ribbed back.
"I'll give you something you can't resist," Alvis said mischievously, firmly yanking Mars toward him by the fabric of his sleeveless shirt and locking lips with him.
From across the club, Davin and Bryn rolled their eyes in reaction.
"There they go again, but I think this time we should get them a room," Bryn laughed, watching her two bosses making a spectacle of themselves.
"Don't mess with their mojo, they bring us good luck," Davin grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.
"Jump into bed with them already, will ya? Save yourself the trouble!"
Bryn squealed and giggled loudly when Davin sprayed her with water. She retaliated with her own as the crowd around the bar cheered them on.
Sometime later, when the hordes of tipsy people had cleared out, Bryn slipped out of her sexy work clothes for the day, (black leather corset showing generous cleavage, fishnet stockings and arm elastics, knee-high platform zipper boots, leather thong bikini and stainless steel metal collar) replacing them with mangled blue jeans and a red, worn out, hooded Harvard-crested sweatshirt. Alvi and Mars had always taken turns choosing her wardrobe and it amused her trying to guess their next outrageous ensemble. She had no use for the provocative stuff outside of work even if her bosses insisted she looked stunning in them, goading her constantly to take some of the items home.
Man, she was tired as Bryn yawned and rubbed her eyes. Lifting her watch, it read 4:30 am. Time to check up on her mystery guest. She hadn't thought too far ahead about what she'd do with her foreign patient once he was strong enough to walk around. Oh, well. Like everything else in her life, she'd deal with it when she got there.
Closing her locker, she walked out of the club's change room. When she saw both Alvi and Mars seated at the bar, she frowned. She knew what it meant. Her self-appointed parental units were about to do another intervention of sorts. She suspected that they took fiendish delight in watching the angry look on her face.
"No! I can't afford to right now. It's March Break, for fuck's sake," Bryn said indignantly, crossing her arms and glaring at both men.
"Told you she'll hate us," Marius said, sipping his bottle of Voss spring water.
"We'll cover your tips for the week as a bonus," Alvis offered.
"Guys, seriously, the two of you are really sweet to me and I totally appreciate what you're both doing, but - "
"This isn't up for discussion, Bryn. We want you to take a break. Can't have our star attraction with bags under her eyes."
"Whatever, Alvi. You can adjust the lighting," Bryn replied, stomping around the bar and grabbing two large Evian bottles, placing them on the counter.
"A little help, my love, would be nice," Alvis prodded.
"Bryn, dear, you're either going to take the rest of the week off or Alvi and I will be forced to buy you a place at that luxury condo next door. The penthouse should do nicely," Marius threatened gleefully.
"It's only Tuesday!" Bryn said in outrage. Their silence meant they wouldn't budge. "Fine, I'll take the rest of the week off but I'm working my shifts on Thursday, deal?"
The two men exchanged glances and nodded.
"Deal. After Thursday's shift this week, neither of us want you back here till Thursday next week," Alvis said with a grin. Mars pursed his lips in barely repressed laughter.
Exasperated, Bryn scowled at both men and roughly scrunched her hair into a messy bun at the back of her head. Reaching into her purse, she wore a pair of thick, black framed sunglasses with photochromic lenses.
"That Clark Kent camouflage you do is so cute," Marius remarked.
"Rather not deal with any perverts following me home," Bryn replied, stuffing the Evian bottles into her purse and fishing out her car keys.
"Bryn, our original offer still stands. We know how hard you work and Mars and I just want to help. It's absolutely no trouble on our part. We're filthy rich bastards, after all," Alvis said with a grin, his Australian accent habitually thicker whenever he was serious.
Sighing, she walked over to where her bosses sat at the bar and stood between them. "I know you're both just looking after me but getting my own place is something I wanna do for myself. You can't know how grateful I am to have met you two. It's like having my parents back again," Bryn said softly.
Visibly touched, both men fell silent as Bryn reached out to them for a tight group hug. She heard Mars sniffle and giggled, giving the man a kiss on the cheek. When Alvi made puppy noises, she laughed and turned her head, giving him another. Waving goodbye, she left the club.
With hardly any cars on the road at such an early hour, Bryn commuted home in record time. It was dark and silent when she entered her basement apartment, carefully tiptoeing to the small kitchen and added two large bottles of Evian in her fridge, placing her bag on the dinette table. Yawning, she went into the bathroom and started her bath.
Slipping into her bedroom, she saw that her guest was fast asleep. Using the dim light from the kitchen, she navigated her way around, took a change of night clothes from her drawers, then surveyed the items she'd left on her night-stand and chair.
At least her guest was eating, a good sign that he was getting stronger. Some of the packets of instant soup were missing, the stack of magazines on the chair were in disarray and he drank all the water she left. The only thing her guest hadn't touched were the assortment of analgesics. Why he refused them, she couldn't understand since he was obviously in a lot of pain. Maybe he was a member of a religion that didn't trust modern medical science?
Shrugging, Bryn restocked the water and food items on her night-stand, left her bedroom and turned off the tap for her hot bath, leaving her bathroom door slightly ajar. She didn't close it in case her guest needed to use the facilities. One of the reasons she chose this particular basement apartment was that a wall separated the toilet from the bathtub. For additional privacy, the last tenant, a good friend of the property's owner, installed an automated curtain she could use with the flip of a switch. That's why her rent was a bit steep. Her landlord decided to keep the improvements, which included a Garburator, kitchen back-splash, granite counters, alarm system, bathtub water jets and trendy studio lighting. She also had exceptional sound insulation that came in very handy when she had friends crash over from the club.
Lately, her landlord hadn't complained much about her accommodating occasional rowdy guests. Was it because she paid her rent by the due date like clockwork? Nah, Raoul wasn't impressed by stuff like that. She suspected that her landlord had an accidental run-in with Mike, the club's bouncer, when she'd helped him out by letting him crash at her place for a few nights. Mike was built like a grizzly bear and quite protective of her.
Regarding her current living conditions, Bryn knew in the back of her mind that most people in the city would kill to have her unit but it was too expensive for the average renter. Bryn suspected Raoul was moving in personally when her lease was over.
Her major beef with her apartment was the location and size. It took almost an hour commute past downtown traffic and she was making do with a 550 square foot space. For a single girl her age and with her place's amenities, she should've been content but she'd rather own a place than rent. Bryn coveted the condo units on the upper floors of the Bourgeoisie club building where her bosses lived. She'd fallen in love with the layout of a specific unit, a 2-bedroom 975 square foot loft with walkout balcony and high ceilings, underground parking for her car and the convenience of taking an elevator to the ground floor to get to work. She suspected that Alvi and Mars owned the condo building itself but they vehemently denied her attempts for confirmation.
The hot water and bathtub jets soothed her sore muscles but she'd give anything for a foot massage right now. She'd have to warn Mars not to make her wear those boots again. The design made her feet hurt. Maybe she needed insoles with more arch support.
I'm tired. Enough worrying about stupid crap for now.
Closing her eyes, Bryn relaxed her mind, listening only to the gurgle of rapidly churning water that massaged her aching body.
Having feigned sleep yet again, Loki heard the continuous noise of bubbling water in the next room. Was the female boiling herself alive in a cauldron?
Confined to his bed, the former god of mischief had nothing to amuse himself with except his thoughts and the inane picture-books his mortal host had left behind on the flimsy chair. Staring at the ceiling, Loki recalled a memory from earlier that day.
He had attempted to stand again while the female was away, managing to inch his way toward the dwelling's bath. Inside, he sought a mirror and was appalled by what he saw. Just as he had guessed, he looked absolutely horrendous. His tousled hair was a greasy mass, the parts of his body not covered in bandages were heavily bruised, he was thin from lack of suitable nourishment and his skin's pallor was paler than he'd ever seen.
I must adapt quickly or I may not survive long on this world. I must learn Earth's customs and languages. The faster I blend in, the faster it will be for me to gather the information I need to navigate my way around this wretched Realm!
...and I wish for my arm to heal instantly so that I may use it, Loki sighed. Better yet, I wish for a pair of mighty wings for me to take flight from this miserable place.
Presently, he longed for the relief of a medicinal hot spring bath in Frigga's Hall of Fensalir in Asgard. Since that was impossible, he would have to settle for whatever crude cleansing implements the humans used for bathing. He also hoped that most of his wounds had sufficiently sealed enough for him to do so. Thankfully, his mortal body was mending well, some of his physical strength returning. However, he detested the repulsive swill that passed for food the female had left him to eat on the night-stand table. He would have to learn to prepare his own meals from now on if he intended to eat properly. The water she gave him was at least acceptable.
Next door, the absence of the bubbling noise meant that the female had finished her bath and would come to visit him to change his dressings. Now that he was fully awake, he could observe her in action.
Bryn entered her bedroom carefully and glanced at the still sleeping man on her bed. This would be a lot easier if he was awake, she sighed as she stood over him.
The man stirred, his breath hitching as his eyes opened and he looked at her.
"Hey, there. Sorry, if I woke you up," Bryn said. "I'm just gonna check on your bandages." The man looked at her curiously. "Don't worry, I had two years in Med school, took Advanced First Aid courses for community service and even rode around in an ambulance. Anyway, I did the best I could but we should still get you to a hospital and have your body x-rayed. Make sure your bones are setting properly."
The man stayed silent.
What am I gonna do if this guy can't speak English? How do we talk to each other? I can't keep up this miming shit if I need to tell him something important, she puzzled. "Can you sit up for me?"
The man accepted her assistance to sit him up. He still winced but not as much as he did a few days ago. She saw that the bruising on his body had faded noticeably in just two days. The bindings on his broken right arm were still good and the man flinched slightly when she prodded certain sections of his shoulder.
"Sorry. Still too tender there, huh?"
His expression softened.
Guess I'm forgiven, Bryn thought with relief.
She continued her inspection of the slender man's upper body and saw that some of the gashes he had were knitting together nicely...and quickly. The guy was a bloody, incoherent mess when she first found him, his right arm had been at an unnatural angle and he was constantly drifting in and out of consciousness. There were days when his fever was so high, she'd almost driven him to the nearest hospital. So, why hadn't she? It was her number one question. Instead, she stayed by his bedside like Florence Nightingale till his fever subsided. She couldn't even remember how she showed up for work in time on top of it.
As she mulled over the subject, she thought of her guest's amazing healing ability over the course of the month, fully aware of the leaps and bounds the man's body had made during that period. Count on her to discover the medical field's next biological miracle.
"Well, so far so good. Okay, I need you to scoot over to the edge of the bed so I can check your legs."
The man allowed her to guide him till his feet hung over the edge of her bed. She could feel his eyes on her as she carefully folded up both pajama pant-legs to just above his knees and inspected the bandages. A few of the gashes had completely sealed so she tore off the gauze pads that covered them.
"Let me know if anything hurts, okay?" she instructed.
The man nodded slightly.
Either her guest understood some English or was simply guessing, she couldn't tell.
Damn, this guy's fit, Bryn observed as her fingers worked her way up his legs. Her guest was defined like an Olympic swimmer with a good amount of muscle definition while remaining slim and lean. Also, his skin was amazingly soft and smooth to the touch...almost like a child's. Blushing slightly, she recalled how the guy's body was totally hairless as well. She'd have to get the number of his dermatologist, not to mention his electrologist. Stellar hair removal job! No sign of any re-growth or scarring.
Here's the awkward part. How do I get to the wounds on his upper thighs? Bryn mused. That part was so much easier when he wasn't conscious!
She bit her lip and looked up at him. He was regarding her curiously, his left arm propping up most of his weight as he sat. Even in the dim light, she could see how vividly green his eyes were.
Crap. She stared at the rolled up pajama bottoms. The pajamas were a few sizes too large and loose enough that folding them up further was effortless. The pair belonged to Mike, left behind when he'd crashed at her apartment for a few nights till his new place was ready. The same Mike she and Davin had talked about last night to pass the time serving drinks.
Bryn opted to chicken out as she unrolled her guest's pajama pants back down to his feet. Some doctor I'd make. Can't even treat a naked man without blushing. Guess it's comes with practice.
Her yawn was long and made her eyes water as she covered her mouth with the back of one hand. Holy hell, I need some sleep!
"That'll do for tonight. First thing tomorrow, I'll help get you cleaned up. I'm pretty sure you're craving a shower by now. Sponge baths can only do so much," Bryn said. Not that the man smelled bad - weirdly enough, he smelled like strong mint - but he looked like something a cat dragged in.
After helping the man back to bed, she smiled and turned to leave.
"Good night," Bryn said and closed her bedroom door.
Loki listened to the female's puttering outside till she fell silent. For a long time, he laid staring at the moving lights and shadows dancing on the bedchamber's ceiling, listening to the muffled noises of activity outside as the world's human population scurried everywhere, hurried and aimless as ants.
He then reflected over the female's visit.
The human female, Bryn, had some healing skill, judging by the way she inspected his wounds. It amused him that she failed to complete her task. Nudity never bother him, whether it was from others or his own - he was not a modest maiden - nor was he a conceited exhibitionist like his brother, Thor.
Oh, yes, Brother wouldn't hesitate to strut naked around Asgard - if I ever dared him to - wearing just his cape and hammer. Odin would find it amusing along with Frigga, but Mother would shake her head advising that it's behavior unbecoming of his station. Sif would most likely blush and be quick to defend him from the hordes of maidens sure to attack him while he paraded around. Incidentally, Fandral, Volstagg, and Hogun, upon learning of my brother's audacity would immediately shed their clothing, walk behind him and mimic his every movement. It would be a spectacle Asgardians will remember for generations, Loki narrated to himself, chuckling at his own imagination. His mirth turned morose, however, when the reverie reminded him of home.
Asgard. The only home he'd ever known was now lost to him. Although his true nature was that of a Frost Giant, he couldn't imagine ever building a life for himself among his 'own kind' in the Realm of Jotunheim. They were strangers to him. Their customs, their beliefs, their ways, all alien to him as he would be to them. He was Jotun in body but because of his Aesir upbringing and education, he was an ideal Asgardian to the core. He had Odin the All-Father to blame for that.
Oh, yes. I'm beholden to you, Odin, for condemning me to an existence that is neither Jotun nor Asgardian. You may call me son but the instant I reveal my true nature to your fellow brethren, they will not take kindly to the magnitude of your deception. To think that, I, a Jotun was seated on the Throne of Asgard? The sheer Sacrilege of it is astonishing and orchestrated by none other than you, the All-Father himself! Multitudes will cry in outrage and rising protests would surely ignite a civil war! Roots of Yggdrasil, Father, what were you thinking - and they call me the god of mischief? For once, my brother was right! You, Odin All-Father, are a FOOL!
Loki's internal tirade filled him with rage as he sat up, grinding his teeth and breathing heavily. Ignoring the aches and pains of his pathetic mortal form, he stood unsteadily only to wobble as his knees gave out, collapsing him to the floor.
No longer caring of the consequences, Loki roared out his great bitterness and anguish like a tortured animal in a cry so loud that he hoped it pierced the heavens, deafening the ears of every living Asgardian. Repeatedly he bayed, despair and delirium intermingling near the precipice of insanity, his voice barely recognizable as anything human. He had no awareness of how long his clamor lasted or the hammering of his left fist to the carpeted floor till it was bloody and broken...or of the needle that pierced his neck.
Normally, Sarah Brightman's epic aria in the song 'The Phantom of the Opera' immediately gladdened his heart and swept him away in a euphoria of melody...but at six o'clock in the morning, when his body was numb from exhaustion and all he fucking craved was a few hours of peaceful, uninterrupted sleep, the music made Alvis Werner livid with indignation.
He rolled over with a groan, a hand violently searching for his cellphone on his bedside table, his index finger smashing the touch screen's answer button.
"Listen, you fucking son-of-a-bitch, you better have a good explanation - "
Distressed sobbing stopped him short and Alvis shot up to a sitting position like a bullet.
"Bryn?" Alvis called out in surprise.
The sound of her name woke Marius to full alertness as he sat up just as fast from the comfortable spot on his pillow.
"What wrong with Bryn?"
"Ssssh!" Alvis hissed his spouse's mouth shut. "Bryn, tell me what's wrong." His voice was gentle but commanding. "It's all right, now. Calm down." He left his warm bed and went straight for their master bedroom's double-door walk-in closet.
Marius followed suit without a word and got dressed at the same frantic pace as his husband.
"Mars and I are on our way. Hang tight, angel. Stay on the line and don't hang up," Alvis instructed as both men tumbled quickly out of their condominium, down their private elevator to the parking garage and into an Aston Martin DB9.
Wrapped tightly in a quilted blanket, Bryn stared bleary-eyed and wary at the crumpled man laying unconscious in a heap on her bedroom floor. She rocked back and forth as uncontrollable trembling plagued her body. She looked every bit as horrible as she felt, her right hand cramping from the death-grip on her cellphone and the memory of what happened only minutes ago, fresh in her mind.
She'd been an unwilling witness to the most terrifying image of suffering personified. Her well-behaved, injured foreigner had suddenly transformed himself into a bellowing, self-destructive berserker.
Her actions, after she'd woken up to a cacophony of unearthly wailing, were a frenzied blur. She remembered trying to calm the man - getting hit and scratched in the process - and when that failed, she ran for the most powerful tranquilizer she could find, injecting a massive dose to the man's neck, directly into his carotid artery. A metal psychiatric syringe lay abandoned off to the side on her bedroom floor.
She barely registered the frantic turning of a doorknob as both Alvi and Mars barged in, running promptly to her side.
"Whit in th' poompin' bluudy 'ell," Marius's Scottish accent flared in distress. Wide-eyed, he surveyed the scene before him, a hand covering his gaping mouth.
Alvis placed Bryn on his lap, a fragile butterfly in her cocoon of soft cotton and embraced her tightly, rocking her quaking body back and forth as he dissected the scene of devastation that was her bedroom. The discarded metal syringe on the floor told him that whoever it was just beyond the door's threshold had been rendered unconscious, otherwise, he would've prohibited Mars from entering the room.
"Good God," he heard his life-partner say a few paces away as he circled a bleeding, crumpled mass.
"Love, please, don't touch anything until we know what we're dealing with here," Alvis warned. Whatever he said had triggered something since Bryn began crying again, and he did his best to soothe the distraught young woman. "Love, would you come here, please?" When Mars was at his side, he added, "Take Bryn for a bit? I want to go in there and take a closer look."
Placing his right hand underneath his jacket, Alvis loosely gripped the handle of his custom Browning High Power pistol tucked in his jeans at the base of his spine, just in case Bryn's rabid guest decided to bite. Years of military training from his past leapt to the surface - his personal well-kept secret - as he cautiously bent down to gauge the unconscious man's condition.
Still alive but this man's a mess, Werner observed. He noted the ruined bandages on the man's body and saw the skill behind it. Seems I'm not the only one with hidden talents around here. He glanced toward Mars and Bryn. She was still shaking but he was taken aback by the worried stare that she sent his way. Oh, no. Not another stupid boyfriend. Darling, darling, this has got to stop!
Releasing his grip on his gun, Alvis sighed and carefully hoisted the broken man onto Bryn's bed. In the state he was in, the man needed to be driven to a hospital Emergency Room.
"Alvi, don't. Don't take him to a hospital," Bryn said between hitched breaths, reading his expression.
"He needs medical attention. Advanced First Aid won't cut it anymore," Werner said flatly.
"He'll be fine. He's some kind of biological miracle. A crazy-fast healer."
"Girl, have you gone mad?" Werner said, anger flaring. "You're bringing home strays now?" He stalked toward the couch where his spouse sat with Bryn, his mouth in an irritated frown. The adrenaline he'd used to maniacally rush to her aid was leaving him, annoyance and exhaustion replacing them. "Is he a drug dealer? What sort of trouble's he in? Good Lord, child, you know better and deserve better! How many times must I tell you this?"
"It's not like that!" Bryn shouted back, her own anger bubbling. She needed some kind of release from the piece of hell she'd just experienced. "Until twenty minutes ago, I had no idea he'd go berserk! I don't think he even knows who he is! He was badly hurt and I took him in. He was a victim of some kind of mugging or whatever. Poor guy had nothing on him except his birthday suit!"
"The man was stripped naked?" both Alvi and Mars said in unison.
Their reactions were comical despite the tense situation. Bryn swore under her breath and blushed. At least her trembling had stopped.
"Yeah, I know, it was freaky for me too. When I found him, it was like being in a deleted scene from the Godfather," she remarked.
Glancing across the room toward the sedated man on her bed, Alvis ran a hand roughly through his hair, sighed audibly and slid down to sit on the floor, leaning against the base of her couch. "I think you'd better start from the beginning."
"I'll make us some tea," Mars volunteered. He stood up and walked a few steps toward the kitchen which was just behind the couch, filling up an electric tea kettle with filtered tap water and pressing the 'on' switch. He then turned around, leaned against the sink and crossed his arms.
Bryn sat back down on the couch, pulled her legs up to her chin and hugged them.
"Remember that crazy thunderstorm we had almost three weeks ago?" When both men nodded, she continued. "I got caught in the middle of it on my way home. I couldn't see anything in the rain, so I pulled over and parked at that alleyway by the Market Street Grill. All of a sudden, this humongous bolt of lightning came down and hit the roof just a few meters above my head. Scared the living shit out of me!"
"That would be Daryl's place. He nearly had a heart attack too. Made a good sized hole in his roof, he told me," Mars interjected. He always made it a top priority to know the sordid events in his neighborhood.
"Of course, like everyone else, I just had to have a better look at the damage," Bryn said, returning to her story. "I got soaked the minute I left my car. With all that rain coming down...I still don't have a clue how I...heard him. He didn't actually cry out for help or anything...I just knew he was there."
Her voice sounded so mystified it made both men stare at her in wonder.
"A dark alleyway rendezvous. How quaint," Alvis muttered.
"I walked down the alley till I got to these huge garbage bins on both sides of me just behind the Grill. When I passed one of the bins, someone grabbed my leg, so I screamed. I thought it was a junkie or some perverted rapist who was stalking me...instead, I found him. He'd passed out but he had a really good hold on my ankle. When I bent down to try to get away from him, that's when I saw how hurt he was. It's like a bunch of guys beat him up, took everything he had and threw him in the dumpster. I felt sorry for him so I took him home," Bryn said, shrugging a little as she curled in tightly, burying her face in her arms.
Mars and Alvi exchanged a series of loaded glances. For a long moment, no one spoke, the living room filled with the intermittent tinkling of china.
"Brynnie, it's one thing to take pity on an injured man with no I.D. but it's incredibly dangerous of you to take him home so quickly," Alvis pointed out. "What you should've done was dial 911...or you could've called me."
"I know that," Bryn said, nipping at her bottom lip. "Until an hour ago, before the guy went completely ape-shit, he was quiet, well-behaved, kept mostly to himself and hasn't spoken a single word to me. I even thought he was a mute till he started talking in his sleep, but whatever he spoke was in some foreign language I've never heard before. He seemed harmless enough."
"So, what happened?" Alvis Werner asked, glancing toward her bedroom. "How'd your 'harmless' man end up like...that?"
"Fucked if I know," she reacted. "I was so tired, I fell asleep soon as my head hit the pillow then I woke up to the noise of him going berserk. He did this really horrible howling and he was hurting himself. I had no choice but to tranquilize him," Bryn explained, shuddering as she recalled the memory. She fiddled with the welts, cuts and bruises on her arms. "Everything was perfectly peachy before that. I gave him a quick check up, he stayed still and was very cooperative, then I put him back to bed and I went to sleep."
"Here you go, dear, drink up," Marius Casen said gently and sat down beside Bryn. She unfolded herself, placing the cup and saucer on her lap.
"I guess the guy may have had some kind of psychotic episode," Bryn thought out loud.
"Which is a damn good reason why we need to take him straight to a hospital," Alvis insisted. "For all we know, he could be completely bonkers."
"No, we can't do that. I just have this really bad feeling he won't last long if we take him to one," Bryn answered with pleading eyes.
Insanity! "Fine. Well, we can't just leave the man in the state he's in. From the looks of it, the poor sod's mangled his left hand and may have re-broken his shoulder," Werner stated.
"Shit," Bryn said. She took a sip of her hot tea and began nibbling at her lip again.
"Good thing Raoul's been out of town this whole time. Otherwise, he would've called the police on your guest there," Mars said, sipping delicately at his tea. He had the sudden urge for a cigarette.
"Y'know, Brynnie, that syringe over there isn't available to the general public. Lord, darling, Thorazine? Only licensed practitioners can get their hands on that drug. Not exactly cheap on the black market either. Care to explain?" Werner asked, gazing expectantly at the young woman.
"I, uh, had connections...when I was a Med student at Harvard."
"Now there's a juicy tidbit! Good heaven's, dear, Harvard?" Mars exclaimed in surprise. "What the hell are you doing wasting your time at the club then?"
"Hey, I happen to love working at the club. Harvard was a whole other life and I'd rather not talk about that right now, okay?" Bryn told Mars angrily. "I happen to like living in San Francisco. Besides, what're you guys gonna do without me, huh?"
"I could promote Jessica in your place. Her eyes have been doing the 'off-with-your-head' bit on you for quite some time now." Alvis chuckled when Bryn kicked his arm with her left leg. "Honestly, Brynnie, I think we have your best interest at heart when we say you should finish your studies."
"If you guys say one more word about Harvard, I'm burning the club down," Bryn threatened. She stood up in a huff, setting her cup and saucer down with a sharp plink on her granite kitchen counter. "Seriously, guys, drop it. Now, if you'll both excuse me, I'm gonna go check on Bruce Banner."
Just mentioning Harvard brought back too many memories of the fairy-tale life she once had.
"Wait," Alvis said as he stood and gently touched Bryn's shoulder. "You should crash at our place for a while. We have spare bedrooms and the building we live in has every modern convenience. That way, you can get more rest and the club's only an elevator ride away. There's even an extra spot for you in the garage to park your car. Your...guest would be more comfortable there too. It will give Mars and I peace of mind knowing that you're safe and the three of us can keep a better watch over your...guest. You don't have to do this alone anymore." His expression was open and sincere.
Alvi made perfect sense. Maybe too perfect.
"You guys've been plotting to find any excuse to move me in, haven't you?" Bryn said suspiciously. She heard Mars softly chuckling. Sneaky bastards. Should have fucking known. She couldn't help but smile at the offer, however. Knowing that Alvi and Mars went above and beyond anything she ever expected them to do for her, made her feel warm, fuzzy and giddy.
"Fine, since you guys insist but it's only temporary," Bryn pointed out. Alvis raised his hands in mock surrender, Mars grinning beside him. Shaking her head, she walked toward her bedroom, her mind reflecting on the strange twists her life had taken.
to be continued
Author's Note:
My main heroine's full name is Brynhild Saitheia (pronounced sai-thay-yah) Seaver.
Alvis and Marius are my very supportive duo and the story's comic relief, with Alvis supplying a few surprises about himself in later chapters. Davin's basically eye-candy (or wallpaper), unless later chapters prove otherwise.
On a humorous note, when you think about it, both Thor and Loki are technically 'cradle-robbing' anyway, being smitten with mortals whose very existences are only blips to their immortal age. (not that us mortals are totally insignificant ants. *winks*) Also, I've decided to give Loki a break, making him the center of attention for a change. ROFL.
Let the chaos begin! *evil grin*
Please forgive my lame attempts to write a Scottish accent. ^_^;
I'm also trying to (lovingly) vomit this story out of my brain as fast as I can. Why? I've already got 4 incomplete stories on the go and I didn't want to add another hanging TBC, so I'm giving it everything I've got. (story's screaming to get out anyway)
I fell in love with Loki's character after watching the movie Thor. Have I said that yet? Tom Hiddleston's Loki was superb! He created a character with so much angst and depth. (with absolutely NO comparison to the Marvel Comics version of Loki)
Movie Loki's sure to tantalize many fan-girls for generations...as handsome, damaged men with grey personalities often do. ;D (Similar men would be Dexter, Severus Snape & Draco Malfoy of Harry Potter, Bill & Eric of Trueblood, Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the Salvatore brothers from The Vampire Diaries. LOL)
Can't wait to effing watch Avengers for more Loki. (Caught the teaser trailer too. What the hell have they done to Thor and Loki's hair? ROFL. It's Loki the Porcupine and Thor the Barbie Doll! *guffaws*)
I've done a quick face collage of my main characters - only for those who are interested; don't bother if you wish to imagine your own characters - as well as many snapshots of 'human Loki'. Enjoy! (Go to my ffnet profile page and click the 'My Story Reference Pics' link to find them) Also, you can check out my crap on Tumblr by clicking my 'Homepage' link. (lotsa Loki and Hiddleston pics)
Don't hesitate to leave me a note commenting on my Loki story. I'd love to hear from you guys!
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