Chapter 3

Loki stood there, staring at his reflection as the subway took off and began making its way to the next station. His hand clutched the metal bars of the car's railing to keep himself calm and steady. If he had the strength, he would have broken the metal poles or screamed out his anger, loud and high enough to break all glass in the vicinity. But being human made him unable to do so, much to his current discontent.

Odin had taken much more from him than he'd originally thought. Certainly more than just his magic.

"My face."

He stared back at a face that was not his own. What a cruel twist of fate, another punishment to be endured. His once pure and emerald orbs were now replaced by stormy blue ones that had grey specks at the edges. Those eyes stared back at him, wide open in disbelief and horror.

And his hair.

"Oh, by the NINE!" What he'd thought was black when a lock had hung in front of his face was actually dirty blond and covered with dark mud, making parts of it cling together. He still had his own strong, prominent nose, but his jaw line was now softened and less pointed. Much to his dismay, he also showed signs of a growing beard.

Slowly, he brought his hand up, hoping that it would be some sort of distorted image or perhaps a stranger standing behind him. He traced the outline of his ear with his index finger before softly cupping his cheek. Unfortunately, this was not a twisted illusion. His cheeks felt fuller. He rubbed his jaw, feeling the small stubs of hair prickling the palm of his hand.

The All-Father was a cruel man indeed. As a human man, he looked more Aesir than he ever had before.

As a human man, he looked more like the other members of his "family."

He looked to his reflection again and saw despair in his eyes. It reminded him of the look Thor had given him before letting himself slip at the Bifrost. He could practically hear the sound of Thor screaming as his brother fell to the stars. Loki's new appearance had to be Odin's doing, a more personal touch for a score the All-Father wanted settled, a constant reminder of his failure to be accepted as a rightful ruler.

In his anger, Loki clenched his fist and punched the window. The glass didn't shatter and his reflection did not vanish in a thousand shards of still unbroken glass, though the pain in his hand was obvious. His heart raced in his ribcage like a panicking animal. He wanted to lash out at the nearest thing, but his sense of self gave him some control. "By the Nine, how can you people live like this?"

Were human feelings always like this? It would surely explain their appetite for self-destruction. People stared at him, though a handful didn't even bother to bat an eyelash at his sudden outburst. To them, he must have seemed like a drunken fool, a man not even worthy enough to be noticed. As the subway made its first stop, people streamed out and in. A woman passing by gave him a haughty look before stepping off with an arrogant elegance. He knew from that look that she felt herself to be above him.

It was cruel how some things never changed.

Loki made his way to an empty seat and sat down to rest his weary limbs. He took his injured hand in his other and began rubbing it while shooting a sinister glare at the bulky man who wanted to take the seat next to him. Volstagg would've looked like a light-limbed dancer compared to this example of humanity and to make it worse, he smelled like a mixture of grease and old sweat. After receiving Loki's withering glare, the man did not dare to take the seat beside him and instead moved along to the back of the car. Loki tried to smooth out his hair with his hands, but the unruly muddy lock was intent on defying him and continued hanging in front of his face, brushing his cheek and taunting him with that dirty-blonde colour.

He tried to put his priorities in order, but found that he was having a hard time concentrating. He would need suitable garments, that was certain. His current broken gear would not suit him in Midgard. Preferably, he could get something dark and with a clean cut to it. He was rather fond of the suit he'd worn before when last on this planet. The scarf he'd conjured then had also gone extremely well with it. Perhaps some humans with enough skill might be able to fabricate something similar to it, not that it could ever be considered the same quality. As to other matters, these people were foolish and could probably be easily persuaded to give him lodging too. With those two essentials, he could perhaps make his short stay here endurable. He would get back to Asgard. The humans had a saying about that, did they not? Where there's a will, there's a way.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice the time slowly passing by. The people boarding the subway changed. Now it consisted mostly of students skipping school, casual shoppers, and people with too much free time on their hands. The subway came out of a tunnel and slowed down, coming to stop at a grey-tiled platform. Loki made his way out and looked for the exit. There was an escalator—a typical human invention, lazy and unpractical in his opinion. He might not have the muscled physique of others on Asgard, but he had lean sleek muscles with almost perfect reflexes. Midgardians, with their lazy attitude towards their health, could never match up to him. No wonder they were so soft and weak, they would find excuses to avoid anything physical. He took the stairs. Having a human body did not mean he had to act like them.

Once outside, he could see a city fully awakened. Traffic seemed to be jammed and an angry passenger in a cab got out while gesturing violently at the driver. Stores were open and people walked around carrying bags and purchases. The traffic lights hit green again and a stream of cars, cabs, and a truck that left behind a dirty puff of smoke drove by.

Loki had trouble orientating himself and looked around for a familiar point. The tall metal and glass buildings still held damage from his last visit to Midgard. Everywhere people were working on repairs. Men valiantly replaced windows at dizzying heights and work was being done to some of the base structures. All the rubble in the streets was cleared and, to make it worse, he saw people smiling and laughing.

It was like he had never been there laying waste to the city. How could the Midgardians have adjusted and adapted so quickly? He missed the looks of fear they'd given him before. Their now friendly smiles held no merit for Loki. Like ants, they worked hard and fast to return their home to its original state. Only one building stood out as not having any damage. The sun hit its glass windows, making it shimmer like a beacon of hope.

Stark Tower.

Loki turned around and walked in the opposite direction with the fast pace of a man severely pissed off.

The streets became calmer as he walked and Loki considered changing his priorities after his stomach made an embarrassingly loud growl. Gods could go without food for a certain length of time, but this human body demanded sustenance in a most annoying way. A little further down the street, he located a store selling sweet snacks and drinks to humans. The sign of the store read 'Dirk's Doughnuts.' Although these things would not have the essential nutrients he would've liked, going without anything would only lead his body to making more of those awful sounds. As he came closer, he saw a beggar sitting just outside the store, a passing woman ignoring his plea for a dollar. He ignored the beggar and stepped inside with an air of certainty surrounding him.

Loki made his way to the counter. The young woman working behind it had a name tag which read 'Vicky.' She was filling pink boxes trimmed with gold and putting doughnuts and other sweets inside them. She gave him a bored look and said in polite but monotone way, "Can I help you, sir?"

He gave her a charming smile. "I believe you can, Miss. As you see, I am in a rather dishevelled state." He let out a sigh and looked deep into her eyes, running a hand through his hair. "It would greatly be appreciated if you could offer me some food." She seemed to melt under his gaze as he said the magic words, "Please, Vicky."

Vicky blushed like a young school girl. Apparently, he seemed to be the only one here who didn't like his face. Women still reacted the same way. She took a small package from the display at the counter and was about to give it to him, but then all hell broke loose from the back of the store.

A tall man came out from the back wearing an overused apron. This man was likely Dirk, the store's owner. He walked in Loki's direction, angrily raising his fist and shaking it in front of Loki's face, signalling he meant to do harm. "VICKY, you stupid twat! Stop feeding the beggars! How many times do I need to tell you? And you get out now, you piece of trash."

Did this man just call him trash? How dare he! Loki's endearing smiled faded. "How dare you call me filth, you measly little worm! I should crush you like you deserve. I have only asked for an offering of food."

Dirk did not listen. His face just reddened like a tomato ready to burst. He came out from behind the counter, carrying a dough roller.

Loki ran through his options. He could try and talk his way out, but no doubt this caveman wouldn't listen to his words. He could try to fend the man off, but Loki himself was still wounded. As a last option, he could make himself scarce and run off, but by the Nine, he was pissed!

Dirk made the decision for him when the dough roller was thrown at his head. Loki ducked and narrowly avoided being hit in the face. Dirk was already a step ahead and shoved his injured shoulder. Loki hissed at the pain. The man must have noticed his injury and taken advantage of it. Loki stumbled backwards toward the open door. There was no avoiding what came next. His body was too tired, weak, and hungry to react. Loki was literally kicked out of the store and the door slammed shut right behind him. He clutched his shoulder and felt the wet stickiness of blood. The wound had re-opened.

Slowly, he tried to get up and felt an unexpected hand. "Dirk's a total ass and he had no right to be this mad at you. But he is tense when it comes to his daughter. Or people like us."

The beggar he saw before helped him up. "If you're really that hungry, I can take you to a place nearby where you can get some food. Can't do nothing about your wounds though." The beggar spat on the ground. "You can rest there for a while until you can get your ass to a hospital."

The man saw in Loki what Loki saw in the beggar, a helpless individual. He nodded to the man and answered with a raspy voice. "I accept your offer."

"Alright, let's get on the road. You can call me Bob, by the way, your Highness." Bob supported him while they walked. Loki felt no need to question the reason why he was called 'Highness.' He felt like he was barely able to think straight. Although he did his best to concentrate, he could not pay attention to his environment. After a while they stopped and he noticed a small fire. Three more men were standing around it, sharing something from a cup.

"Guys, we have a newcomer. Your Highness, I'd like to introduce you to Mike, Samuel, and Jack Daniels. Guys, this is 'Your Highness.' He acts like a prince and he tried to defy Dirk. So now we'll give him a bowl of soup." The man called Mike nodded, grabbed a brown mug, and poured in some soup, or at least something that looked like it. Loki took it and before he knew it, his mug was empty.

Bob pointed to a large cardboard box in the distance. "That one's mine, but there is another one just behind it. Used to be Tyson's, but he left. You can rest there for now. Just don't die tonight, okay? I'd hate to explain a corpse to the cops."

Loki dragged his body to said box. It was large enough to curl up inside and a few pieces of paper provided slight comfort against the cold ground. He felt the heavy, draining feeling of sleep come over him and his head hurt again. He had been cast out and stripped of his magic by Odin. His face had been taken away and what had been left behind only a constant and painful reminder of his old life.

The last thing to go was his dignity.

He was a monster, a weakling, and now the lowest kind of human.

Once again thank you for reading, following and leaving reviews.

What started out as a test to see if i could better my understanding in English is slowly getting out of hand.

Thanks to sinisterbanana and swordmisstress for betaing