Disclaimer: as before
Music: "Rock, Paper, Scissors" by Katzenjammer
Scissors Rock! No Paper Money for You! (2/2)
There was no way this would work. Even if Thor could open that door downstairs without his hammer – doubtful – the police would have long arrived by then. As if on cue, the first siren sounded outside. Robber-by-the-door jumped, cursing. „Stay down, keep calm, ok? We only want money. They'll let us go and nobody gets hurt." Then several things happened at once.
Police cars stopped on the street, breaks screeching.
Cops jumped out, guns drawn.
Robber-by-the-door sprinted for cover behind a pillar.
Loki hissed „Need a distraction" at the old lady with the self-preservation instinct. (Hopefully outweighed by a willingness to help. He thought he had spotted some cat hair on her coat.)
Desperate, mumbled prayers from the young mother beside the counter: „Oh God, oh, God, please, anyone, save my baby!"
The robber arriving behind the pillar, stopping, staring the woman with the walking frame who so far had escaped attention.
Said old lady enacting something between a heart-attack and a nervous breakdown most convincingly.
Behind the man's back, Loki jumped to his feet and knocked him out with a chop to the side of his neck, the pulse-point in the vein. With his other hand, the trickster caught the robber's hand that held the rifle, so he could not accidentally pull the trigger. Grinning thanks to his helper, Loki lowered the robber to the ground, then uncocked and dissembled the rifle. (Good thing agent Barton had given him a crash course on contemporary Midgardian weapons.)
Now time was of the essence. Most of the hostages in the room, lying face down on the floor, had probably not noticed they could as well walk out now. If they did, the two robbers in the basement would hear the commotion.
„Help me again?" Loki whispered toward the old woman. (Yes, that was definitely cat hair.) „Stall the police, will you?" Not waiting for her answer, mimicking the downed robber's voice as best he could, he said loudly: „Everyone stay down! We're gonna release you one by one. You here, ma'am, you go first. Tell them we want a getaway car."
The woman – bless her soul to Folkwang (he doubted she'd appreciate the company in Valhalla) – slowly made her way to the front door, leaning heavily on her walking frame now after standing so long.
Loki took the time to tie the downed robber with his own belt, then jumped over the counter, taking the sewing kit with him. Ducking out of sight, he took out a pair of scissors, which he tore apart with ease. One blade in each hand, he stalked downstairs.
Behind him, the young mother, who had witnessed all that too shocked to react, wiped the tears from her eyes and scrambled over to the disassembled gun.
Down in the basement, the girl's crying, the robbers' angry yells and Thor alternately kicking the vault door and ramming his shoulder into it (he had made a dent) masked Loki's approach perfectly.
The first robber, he stabbed from behind, angling up from below the ribs into the diaphragm so he could not scream. His comrade (the ringleader, who still held the child) only turned around when the dying man's weapon clanked to the ground. Wide-eyed, he received a scissor blade to the heart and another to the armpit, cutting the tendons so he dropped his gun. Loki sped up his death by yanking out the blade from the heart, releasing a fountain of blood. (There went Stark's smurf shirt. Grey was not his colour anyway.)
„Brother! I am glad you decided to help. What took you so long?" Thor had given up his pointless pounding.
Loki ignored him. The little girl was whimpering beside the gangster in his death-throes, her arm clearly dislodged. From centuries of experience, Loki knew this should be addressed immediately, before swelling set in, making treatment more difficult. Sitting cross-legged, he gathered the girl in his lap, stroking her curly hair to calm her. Sadly, he had no painkilling magic now.
Just then, a voice from the staircase interrupted: „Hands off! My baby, you're not gonna hurt her, whoever you are."
The little girl's mother had done her best to re-assemble the rifle. There was no telling whether the thing was functional, and she was pointing it anywhere between wall and ceiling, but Loki's opinion of her went up a notch. Not far enough to shield the girl from ricocheting bullets with his own body if it came to that, though; not with his healing magic blocked. All he needed was one second of distraction to set the arm.
„Don't worry, mylady, your daughter is allright. Worrying is bad for your blood circulation. Thor, darling, why don't you tell the lady a story to help her relax? Maybe of that time I found you naked in the bathroom when you had 'accidentally fallen' on your hammer's handle?"
The two or three seconds when the woman stared at the god of thunder, both of them mouth agape, were sufficient for Loki to set the girl's arm and present her to her mother, who thankfully dropped the rifle to gather her child up in her arms. Shortly afterwards, policemen stomped down the stairs.
Of course the newspapers wrote „The Mighty Thor Thwarts Bank-Robbery", or some such. Loki was used to living in his not-brother's shadow; why should it be different on Midgard? Thor did not get it. „Brother, you did well! I'm so happy for you. Stay with us in upholding the law, and you shall be redeemed in no time!", the oaf boomed.
„Your friends were less enthusiastic about upholding the law when I reported Stark for drunken driving the other day." Loki grumbled.
What was redemption for, anyway? He did not want to return to Asgard. Midgard was at least entertaining. Sighing, he resolved to help Peter with his underpaid job of gathering footage about other superheroes than Spider-Boy. There was this picture of Thor posing in front of the mirror in yellow underpants with a blue moose pattern (another gift from Anthony) which he had secretly taken. That should do.
A/N
Thanks to all reviewers! I don't think I'll write any more on this prompt; these three stories were all that popped up in my head for the knifefighting theme.