Author's note: Well, I have returned! Even if it's only been one day, I have brought a new chapter. So, I was browsing through Deviantart and I found this funny Thor and Loki comic, which inspired this chapter. You can find it at art/Thor-and-Loki-302214987 I guarantee if you are a Marvel fan, it will be most amusing.

Now to address the reviewers!

AdminElrohir- Thanks for reviewing! This was originally supposed to be a oneshot, but I decided to flesh it out into a story. Hope you stick with it!

Warnings: None

Disclaimer: I do not own Night at the Museum and never will. All characters respectively belong to themselves

"Perhaps when we do take over the world, I can find a pair of shoes that make me taller."

Napoleon grumbled to himself, staring accusingly down at the boots he was wearing. It wasn't as if these boots weren't comfy, but they didn't exactly help with his height. If anything, they made him feel shorter. He glanced around the room, hoping no one spotted him talking to himself about his height. Kahmunrah was busy sorting through his many objects, throwing random ones around the room. Ivan and his men had left to go find more objects to sort through and Capone and his gang of mobsters gambled amongst each other.

"Scommetto che è davvero più breve di cinque a due."

He felt his nose itch and his face wrinkled as he fought back a sneeze. He had heard of some suspicion that one would sneeze if someone was speaking about them, but he had never believed him. Yet glancing at the Italian American Mobsters, he wasn't quite sure. Still, he resumed his position of looking out for Mr. Daley.

"Nah, I bet he's exactly four feet and eight inches. I mean, look at those boots! They give him extra height!"

He felt his eye twitch. "Juste ignorer," he muttered to himself, trying to stuff down the growing irritation. "lls sont juste Américains naïfs."

He continued to look through his telescope, thinking himself looking rather noble while doing so, and did his best to ignore them.

Until they started bothering his men.

"Hey, hey you! Yeah, you with the big mustache. I got a question for ya."

He turned around slightly, eyes narrowing as the leader of the mob sauntered towards his men with his trademark smirk. The soldier he was addressing, a young man who had named himself Armand, looked at Capone warily. "Oui?" he asked.

Capone looked over to where Napoleon was standing, knowing full well that he could hear him. "You see, my boys and I were wondering about something. How tall is your boss?"

Armand glanced at his fellow soldiers. "Notre Empereur?"

"Yeah, that guy."

The Solider glanced nervously up at him, knowing full well that the subject about the emperor's height was a taboo subject. No one even dared to bring it up, but obviously Capone didn't know that. Or maybe he did and just wanted to cause a stir. "Uh, well," the soldier began, fidgeting along with the others. "He's…"

"Don't even finish that sentence!" Napoleon stuffed his telescope back in his coat pocket, storming over to where Capone was. "It is not about the height! It is about having a plan!"

"Whatever you say, small fry."

"Small fry!"

Capone crossed his arms, smirking down at him in an irritating way. "Yeah, Small fry. You see, everyone here has a nickname. I'm Al; Ivan's real name is Ivanovich, so Ivan. Kah is for Kahmunrah and you're Small Fry.

"How dare you! You stupide Américain!"

"Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?"

He was just about ready to tackle the gangster to the ground, but the sound of Ivan's voice saved the mobster from getting tackled. He carried a medium sized blue cooler with the name of Brandon on it, the contents inside a mystery, and set it down in the pile before retreating away to go get more items. Napoleon abandoned the fight, now curious to see what was in the cooler.

"I wonder what's in here," he muttered, unhooking the locks and gazing inside. "Oohh, drinks!"

He picked up a bottle, reading the label. He didn't know what Samuel Adam's was, but it looked like it was some sort of Alcoholic beverage, beer to be specific. Looking back inside, he saw eight bottles and smiled. That was enough for him and his men, and they had been doing such good work so far that they deserved a little relaxation. After all, he was a generous man. The Louisiana Purchase was proof of that! Even though he gave it away to fund his war, it still was pretty generous! Giving a soft smile, he switched the bottle to his left hand, bringing his right hand to open it.

"No!"

A hand smacked him on the head, nearly knocking his hat off in the process. He shouted as Capone took the beer from him, staring down at him with false sternness, the trademark smirk poking out. "Sorry Small fry, but this is a man's drink."

"WHAT? I will have you know that I am at least one hundred and thirty years older than you!"

Capone just laughed, digging through the container, passing a couple things of beer to his friends. At the very bottom, he pulled something out, grinned, and handed it to him. "Here you go. I'm sure someone of your height can handle this."

"A…CapriSun? YOU GAVE ME A CHILD'S BEVERAGE?"

Capone and his men laughed, ignoring the darkening face of Napoleon. He growled, throwing the child's beverage at the Italian man and cursed at him in French. Capone didn't look fazed in the slightest, looking rather amused through the whole thing. Eventually Ivan came back, wondering what exactly was going on. "Mr. Italian," he began in his heavily accented voice. "Why are you teasing Little Nippy?"

Napoleon froze, turning around slowly, his face an angry red. "What did you just call me?" he hissed, shocked at what just came out of the man's mouth. He pulled out his dagger, holding it to him. "lls sont juste Américains naïfs!"

"Chto?"

He sighed in irritation. "I dare you to repeat that!" he rephrased in English. "Maintenant!"

Ivan glanced at Capone, obviously not seeing what the problem was. "Mr. Italian was telling me about how everyone had nicknames except for you. I do not like Small fry, so I came up with Little Nippy."

Capone stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Little Nippy…yeah, I like the sound of that," he grinned, the two of them studying him carefully. "Little Nippy."

"Noon!"

The monochromatic man just shook his head. "Nope. If the name fits, then the name fits. Besides, with you being a high hat and all, it sums you up quite nicely."

Napoleon blinked once. "A high hat?"

"You know, a snob."

"You….you….cretín!"

"You really need to work on your English, you know that?"

"Argh!" With that, he marched away, ignoring the semi-amused stares he got from his soldiers and resumed his post at watching for the Night guard. However, his ears turned pink when he heard one of his troops mutter: "Hm, Little Nippy. I think it fits."

And thus, the name Little Nippy was born. Yeah, it probably didn't happen like that, but this is fanfiction. Anyways, I have a list of translations at the bottom.

"Scommetto che è davvero più breve di cinque a due" Italian for: I bet he's shorter than five foot two

"Juste Ignorer- French for: Just ignore them

"lls sont juste Américains naïfs"-French for: They're naïve Americans

"Notre Empereur"-French for: Our Emperor

"Stupide"-French for: Stupid

"lls sont juste Américains naïfs"-French for: I dare you to repeat that

"Maintenant"- French for: Now

"Chto"- Russian for: What?

"Cretin"- French for: Moron etc. Or in this case: Asshole

So there are all the translations. Whether they are correct or not, I don't know. I might come up with a new story soon, about a kid being stuck in the museum during the battle of the Smithsonian. Still working it out, but tell me what you think. More drabbles like this will be coming soon!