Chapter 32

Loki was no stranger to mingling with questionable folks. As much as he loved high society and the luxury it provided, he missed the thrill that the seediest parts of each planet could offer. Through the years he had gone on solo adventures outside Yggdrasil, where he had met allies and enemies alike, and he had used a great variety of personas and disguises, with mixed results. But each time an identity didn't yield the desired results, he would "retire" that persona, ensuring the ones who wanted it dead in the first place felt satisfied and considered the matter settled.

One of his favorite personas went by the name of Joman Vellis, an adventurous Javelan whose homeworld had been obliterated after a nuclear holocaust, many generations ago, which had made their entire empire dissolve almost overnight.

Now Javelans wandered through space looking for any way to survive, becoming an easy prey for the unscrupulous as they had no government, army or society to back them up. A proud, yet warlike and cruel race, they were condemned to extinction a long time ago, while the few survivors languished in brothels or wasted their lives as outlaws and bounty hunters.

The first place he visited as Joman was an asteroid in the belt of Suncax 34, a red giant which had already swallowed half its system and burnt all life from the remaining planets. His disguises had always been meticulous, but he was particularly proud of this one. The Javelans had dark, red skin and black, bony growths protruding from their foreheads that curved back over their skulls. They eyes had barely no distinction between sclera and iris, nor a visible pupil, and their color ranged from pearl white to jet black, with shades of ice blue or bright gold in between. Loki had chosen bright gold for Joman, who also liked to adorn his "horns" with golden trinkets and chains.

They already knew Joman there, so when he entered the tavern there was a brief glance in his direction and a quick resuming of whatever conversation had been interrupted, but he noticed the atmosphere was tense. He asked for a drink and sat down at the bar.

The owner was an old Ager named Zavir, a burly, hairless creature which pinkish-white skin he had to shield from light sources. His pale eyes looked at him with mild surprise.

"I'll be shot and quartered," he grunted. "I thought you was dead!"

"As you see, I'm very much alive," Joman smiled. "My drink?"

Zavir served him without another word.

"Slow day?" Joman asked, seeing that the place was almost empty.

The barman chuckled humorlessly.

"Where the hell have you been?" he grunted again. "Haven't you heard? People are disappearing."

"Nova Corps?"

"Wish I knew. They are taking them, just like that. They go on a job and they are gone."

One of the patrons overheard them talking, and turned to them.

"I know a guy who got away," he said. "But you wouldn't take his word to be true. Guy lies as he breathes," he paused, looking at Joman. "You sure you want to be involved?"

He shrugged.

"Let's say I'm intrigued."

"He's a Ravager, from Yondu's clan," the bandit smirked. "S'pose you had dealings with him in the past, right? You know where to find him, though I dunno if he would be happy to see you."

Joman didn't answer, finished his drink and got out of the canteen.

It was true that he had crossed Yondu's path more than once, and that he wasn't sure if the last time they parted ways it had been in amicable terms, but he needed the information and was ready to risk a fistfight if needed.

However, the first thing he needed was his old ship. Using portals was all well and good, but Yondu's clan lived in a ship that was constantly on the move, and trying to pinpoint a portal spell to a destination that travelled above a certain speed could prove disastrous.

He had left his ship in the Realm of Niflheim, the Dead World. Heimdall's vision didn't worry him, but unexpected visitors with more curiosity than brains did. Niflheim was a barren planet of ice and wind, similar to Jotunheim, but practically inhabitable due to it's ever changing and hostile climate.

He sighed in relief when he saw the cave he had chosen as hideout hadn't collapsed. Standing before the vessel, he looked at it, remembering days gone by.

It was an old model, its lines unassuming and simple, yet slick and with a certain elegance. He had been offered other models, and he had the money to purchase them, but he had grown fond of this spaceship, of all things. When asked about its name, he said it didn't have one, 'no need to get attached to it', he used to tell people.

Loki spent several days cleaning and fine-tuning it, making several trips to repair shops and junkyards for spare parts and fuel. After two long weeks of engine work and cleaning, his ship was in pristine condition and ready to fly, as he decided to do one night.

The engine started with a satisfying rumble. All systems were in order, as he saw in the screens while he took off against the wind and cruised the grey skies of Niflheim for a test fly. Gaining altitude over the clouds, fighting against the heavy, icy rain pummeling against the ship's hull, he was met with a sea of pale waves swirling under the stars, converging and parting and, in some places, flashing as storms raged under their surface.

Then suddenly Niflheim's sun appeared to his left, bathing the sea of clouds under him with a pale, silver light, and he wished Jane was next to him to see it.

As he reached escape speed, his mind wandered to other scenarios. What if, after the war with the Dark Elves was over, he remained in space? That life wasn't too difficult for him, after all. Amassing a small fortune was child's play, so becoming actually wealthy shouldn't pose a problem for him. Then he could charm his way into the most influential circles, and he would essentially be a prince again, but wherever he chose.

He wasn't prone to let his imagination get the better of him when planning his future, but that was a life he could see himself living.

But for now he had other more pressing matters to tend to. The path to the nearest jump point passed near Vanaheim's solar system and, as he approached, he saw a small fleet of warships patrolling their quadrant. He shook his head, bitterly realizing that what the Vanir considered their pride and joy in space technology, paled when compared with what a humble merchant could hire as security for his own cargo ships out there.

He steered his own ship away from the patrol, taking a roundabout way to the jump point. Far enough for them not to see him with the naked eye, for Loki knew their systems weren't powerful enough to detect him.

If the Dark Elves returned, it wold be like facing a dragon with a wooden sword.

He had to move, and not only with his space ship.