A shorter chapter this time guize! :) Hope you like it ~
- Chapter 6 -
The Two Brothers
New york was a strange place.
Loki stared disinterestedly at the skyscrapers and office buildings around him, glittering in the sun. Unconsciously, he had followed some sort of trail that led him here. Even Loki couldn't explain it, but it was the faint tugging of his instincts, a nagging feeling in his gut that caused him to board the earliest flight to America and to New york.
The place, unlike Japan, smelled of ice cream and candy floss immediately upon arrival. It had none of the natural scenery and beauty that Japan was so full of. At least, nothing that he could see yet. His delicate nose had also picked up the unmistakable stench of reused oil, a sure indication of fast food.
The restaurant in question was just across the street from where he was standing. He made his way over, curiosity piqued.
Loki peered into the windows. He had seen those two golden arches on the roof in Kyoto too, but he was surprised to see them here again. Inside, kids unwrapped shiny papers, revealing the round sandwiches beneath. What were these things?
Children and their parents sat around the number of bright, colorful plastic chairs, giggling happily as their chins got stained with ketchup and mayo. Loki watched with envy as one of the parents, a father, used a piece of tissue and gently wiped the stain off his kid's cheeks. The child gurgled happily and Loki's chest tightened.
"What kind of clothes are he wearing?"
"Freak."
Loki's sharp hearing had picked up the smattering of conversation around him. Unsurprisingly, it was about him. To be more precise, it was his out-of-place clothing that drew their unwanted attention.
Looking around, Loki realized that he stood out like a canary among a flock of crows with his bright kimono. He hadn't thought to change his clothes when he flew for New york. He didn't ever change clothes much in Asgard, so why start now?
Apparently now was as good a time as any to start, judging by the steadily rising number of glances he received.
Loki eyebrows furrowed into a crease along his smooth forehead. What should he wear? He had never once thought to study America when reading about Midgard in the vast musty libraries back home in Asgard. Home. He gritted his teeth and thought, not any more.
Asgard was no more home than Jotunheimr.
Modeling himself on passerbys, Loki ended up wearing a dark green cashmere sweater paired with smooth dark brown pants, ending with a pair of comfortable black suede loafers. Granted, the guy was wearing wool but Loki had standards after all.
Already, New York was feeling the first stirrings of what promised to be a chilly winter to come.
Loki was glad he had the sweater after all, and it kept him reasonably warm against the bracing pre-winter winds. He already despised the weather and New york by connection. The winds reminded him too much of another place, in another time, where he had also stood, chilled to the bone as flakes of ice dropped around him, green eyes staring defiantly into red ones, and Loki felt the whole world tilt below his feet...
He blinked.
By some unconscious will of his own, Loki had caused the duck pond in the middle of Central park to flood. Continuously like a dam, the seemingly endless supply of water flowed out, flooding the immediate areas around it. Picnickers screamed as they ran to get out of the way and cyclists swerved to a stop in their path, awe and horror stricken at the same time. The water was proving to be unstoppable and New york city risked having a mini tsunami right about then.
Loki didn't even know how he had gotten there in the first place. He certainly did not remember walking into a park, much less standing in front of a fountain.
This was certainly not how he had imagined making an impression on New york.
He watched cooly as he saw the water enveloping the citizens around him, carrying them with its strong currents. Women screamed out of horror and men out of desperation as everyone scrambled to reach high ground, anywhere that could escape the water. The Sahara desert sounded like a good place right now.
Out of the corner of his eye, as Loki beheld his masterpiece, he saw a young boy. He was holding an ice cream cone that had long melted, the strawberry trickling down his fingers in a long sticky mess. The boy was bawling his lungs out for his mummy, will somebody please help him find his mummy he was scared and he wanted his mummy.
A tall column of water was headed his way.
Loki's heart gripped in a way that had not happened since he was born, and had a habit of doing so much more often lately. Usually during his encounters with the Stark man.
Without pausing for thought, Loki raised both hands and muttered a spell.
Immediately, all the escaping water within a 100 mile radius froze into ice.
Loki scooped the crying boy into his arms and carried him to a dry embankment nearby.
"Your mum will be here soon. I promise." Loki flashed the boy one of his rarer smiles, the one that was genuine and caused butterflies in the tummies of anyone who happened to see it. The child calmed down, sniffled once and nodded. Loki patted his head and swung around to face the crowd of thousands that had gathered around him.
An empty coke can hit his head squarely at the temple.
"Get away from my child, you sneaking bastard!" A red-faced, slightly plump middle aged woman was advancing towards him. Behind Loki, the child gave a yelp of happiness and shouted "Mummy! Mummy!"
"Watch it, mortal." Suddenly, Loki's eyes were two livid thunderbolts, and the air smelled like singed hair. His brother wasn't the only one who could summon thunder.
"I saw you!" she hissed fiercely into Loki's face as she drew up close, her spit coating his face. In her eyes he saw defiance, anger and just a bit of uncertainty. But not fear. The courage of Midgardians were not without proof. But how foolish it seemed in persons so small and how lethal the combination of courage and ignorance.
"Then you would have seen how I just saved your son's life!" he spat. Magical energy sparkled at his fingertips and he was poised, ready for combat. He could feel the electricity surging through his body.
"All I saw was you unleashing that torrent of water against us!" The boy had ran to her safe embrace, and she gripped him securely in her arms, with the fierceness of a lioness protecting her cubs.
"Mummy..."
"Hush, little one. I'm not going to let him hurt you, I promise."
Loki's eyes narrowed as he took in the scene before him. Some people hovered uncertainly around the edges, but most were defiant, their stance proud and angry, rallied by the mother's pep talk.
"And so even the Midgardians would not trust me, even though I seek your kind extending an olive branch? Has the name of Liesmith spread so far that it should touch Midgard? Am I to find peace elusive, even as I seek, crying her name?" he laughed, a harsh note, and continued. "Very well. I have learnt. Loki shall not be defied!"
This time, the energy whirling around his hands had drawn themselves into a hurricane and overhead, dark clouds responded. With his magic, Loki had turned the sunny sky into a smoldering thunderstorm and it looked as if night had befallen. Gusts of strong wind uprooted trees, even ancient oaks in the park and everywhere was filled with the sound of people screaming.
Standing nearest to him had been the mother, and she shrieked as she held onto a branch of ice and her feet dug backwards into the ground, desperate not to lose her footing and carrying her child along with it. The cold, Jotunian ice stung her hands, and she screamed in pain, the grip burning with the intensity of dry ice.
"No, stop stop! Stop it!" the boy wailed from his position in his mother's arms, and Loki's heart filled with a terrible ache.
The boy's eyes were filled with the same look of horror and sorrow he had when he was younger and Odin, always proud to showcase his powers, had struck down a condemned prisoner with the Mjolnir, the poor guy's guts spilling all around him as the force of the magical weapon had smashed his skull into pieces. Some of the blood had gotten onto Loki's face and he had cried and begged his violent father to stop, stop, I don't want him to die, but it was all too late of course...
Cursing, he commanded the magic to stop. The sky was still overcast, and would be for a few hours till night came. Stealing one last look at the crying boy's face, Loki disappeared, apparated in a cloud of sulphur.
Out of breath, Loki leaned against one of the white pillars of Grand Central Station. Unwittingly again, he had apparated without a clear destination in mind and had ended up in this train station. He barked a short, guttural laugh. Trains. A pathetic transport system that the mortals had dreamt up. He had read about it somewhere.
Tourists and citizens alike milled around him, unsuspecting. News would reach them soon enough. And New york would no longer be the safe haven that it had seemed to promise. He needed to escape, flee to another country. On the run again. Maybe he could return to Kyoto, spending the rest of his life there as a mountain hermit or something. Never mind the wrenching gut feeling tangling his stomach into knots that had brought him here and seemed to wound tighter and tighter with each passing second. Loki thought it might be a stitch, except he hadn't done any running.
Contrary as it would seem, magic was depletable, but only under circumstances of great exertion and duress. Loki glanced down at his fingers sullenly. Enough magic left for a last apparation, he thought as he looked at the dull green flames swirling around his index and pinky. Better made it count.
As he shut his eyes and thought of Venezuela or some other exotic place like India or Papa New Guinea, he was struck by a horrible jerk in his chest. Unable to control his jerky spasms and sporadic movements, he fell to the floor, looking for all the world like a stroke victim.
As he lay there twitching, a horrible idea bloomed across his mind, faint but still discernible.
Thor had just arrived on Earth.