by C. Gockel
Steve turns. Brett and Bryant immediately draw their weapons.
Loki just rolls his eyes. He is in a suit, as seems to be the usual. Narrowing his eyes, he steps towards them. “I’ve had a lovely time with Ms. Lewis tonight, and I think she’ll have lots of interesting things to tell you.” He smiles tightly. “And she should be compensated for such.”
Steve tilts his head. “Why?”
Loki smirks. “Because your organization offers danger pay. And I think we can all agree, I am dangerous.” He raises an eyebrow.
“That’s true,” Bryant mutters.
Loki smiles at him and turns his eyes to Steve. “Also, you’re about to have visitors from another realm. I’m guessing Vanaheim. Most likely hostile. If you move quickly we’ll be able to intercept them.”
“What? Where?” says Steve.
“Danger pay,” says Loki, face expressionless. “For every moment I am with Miss Lewis henceforth.”
“Fine!” says Steve.
Smirking and raising his eyebrows, Loki says, “Call back up.”
“Bryant,” says Steve.
“On it.”
Loki closes his eyes. “It’s emerging...Amy says the name of the place is Arrigo Park. The north-west corner, near the statue of Christopher Columbus.”
Loki disappears.
Bryant is barking into a phone.
Brett tilts his head to the east. “That’s a block away but there’s a dead end between us and the park. We’re better off running.”
“Let’s go,” says Steve, pulling his gun and hoping the entity known for mischief is playing a bad joke.
Nodding, Brett sets off up the street and Steve follows, Bryant still on the phone behind them.
He’s not even out of breath when Loki and Amy come into view, standing in front of a large statue of Columbus. On Loki’s shoulder is an owl...made of fire. Amy is dressed all in black and looking slightly guilty.
“What’s going on?” she asks.
“Nothing at all,” says Loki with a cheerful smile. Fixing a death glare on Steve he says, “Agent Rogers is just going to see that you get safely home.”
Steve tilts his head at the implicit command; not that he is going to disagree. Hearing Bryant’s footsteps behind him and the sound of cars screeching to a halt and doors slamming, he says, “Bryant, get Miss Lewis out of here.”
“Right,” says Bryant.
“Loki?” says Amy. He doesn’t answer, but the owl hops to Amy’s shoulder.
What is evidently only an illusion of Loki walks right through her and nods at Steve. “Follow me.” And then the illusion seemingly runs around the statue, past a concrete embankment filled with trees, and heads into a forested area, his suit shimmering and turning into body armor that looks a lot more high tech than anything Steve ever got to wear as a marine; it blends into the trees, and the lawn beyond, lit by streetlights and moonlight. Only Loki’s chin is barely visible beneath a shimmering eye piece — and a long glinting sword at his side.
Steve tilts his head. If Loki is only an illusion, why does he need armor?
He checks the street as Amy and Bryant get into a car. Steve doesn’t see any civilians walking about. Hoping this isn’t a trap, Steve raises his gun, nods to the four agents beside him and sets off past the statue and into the trees.
Just ahead there’s an opening in a black metal fence. Standing on either side of it is a crowd of Lokis, dressed all the same, all with a sword upraised. There’s a bright flash of light, and a shadow begins to swirl in the gap in the fence. It’s nearly as big as an elephant, but hominid.
“Oh, fuck,” the Lokis say in unison. Steve mentally echoes the sentiment.
The form solidifies. It’s green, gargantuan, and dressed in animal skins. Steve’s about 5 meters away but he can already smell the stench of rotting flesh.
“It’s the Goddamn Incredible Hulk!” says one of the agents.
“It’s a troll,” says Steve grimly. He’s seen them in Merryl’s reports.
“Aim for the eyes,” shouts Loki.
“You heard him!” Steve says. Gunfire goes off around him, and the Lokis are pulling out what looks like knives.
The troll swings at the Lokis. Encountering only empty air, it roars in frustration and begins lunging through the trees towards Steve and his men. Steve and his guys are all excellent shots, but it is very dark beneath the trees, and low hanging branches block their shots. Someone’s bullet hits the troll in the cheek; it pauses for a moment, roars, and then holds an arm up to its eyes.
The agent next to him says, “Sir, I have a shotgun in my car.”
“Get it, and call for more backup!” Steve shouts as he and the other agents fire uselessly at the creature’s raised arm.
Flashes of light halo the troll’s head. And for a moment it drops its arm and begins pulling wicked looking knives from its neck. Nearby there is the sound of a woman screaming. Ripping out the knives the troll looks in her direction.
Steve opens up his Glock; the troll turns its head and snarls as though annoyed by insects. Forgetting about the woman, the troll throws up its arm to protect its eyes again and lunges at Steve.
Seeing civilians at the corner of his vision, Steve dances backwards. “That’s right! Come and get me!”
The troll takes the bait and comes forward, trapping Steve against the embankment wall. Steve’s guys are now at its side, and they won’t be able to get a clear shot at its eyes.
There is the sound of a shotgun firing, the creature lets out a blood curdling snarl. A liquid, thick and tar-like, bubbles from the troll’s shoulder, but it doesn’t turn from Steve. There’s nowhere to run. Steve keeps his gun upraised, hoping he’ll get a clear shot when the thing inevitably grabs him.
There’s a shimmer of silver on the pavement, the sound of steel on rock, and suddenly at Steve’s feet there is a sword.
“Use it!” screams Loki. Holstering his gun, Steve scrambles to pick it up. It’s lighter in his hands than the Kumdo swords he’s used to, and the way it catches the light — it’s almost like a lightsaber.
A huge meaty fist is coming towards Steve’s face. Reflexes born of years of practice kick in and Steve brings the sword down on the troll’s wrist.
There should be the shock of steel impacting against bone. But the blade slices through the troll’s wrist — bone, muscle, tendons, and armor-like skin as easily as butter. The hand lands on the pavement in front of Steve with a soft thud.
Leaning back, the monster howls. And then there is a shimmer of something from behind it. Steve blinks. Loki is on the troll’s shoulders, over 12 feet above the ground. The troll reaches with its one hand to pull him off but before it does Loki brings two knives into the beast’s eyes; and then Loki slips off, or falls, Steve really can’t see. There is the sound of two nearly simultaneous explosions and two flashes of light and half of the troll’s head is suddenly gone.
In the distance Steve can hear sirens wailing and people screaming.
Panting, blade still upraised, Steve watches the troll fall to the ground. Destroying their brains is just about the only way to kill trolls, the damn things have redundant hearts, and apparently can reattach their limbs.
Steve swallows. Loki killed it. But why?
There are a few Lokis walking around the fallen creature. One of his agents comes forward, presumably to intercept Loki — one of them is real, but Steve holds up a hand and nods in the direction of a crowd of people forming just beyond the park. “Form a perimeter,” he says.
The agents nod and back away, but Brett holds up a phone and raises an eyebrow. A little red light is flashing. He’s begun recording this. Steve nods at him and Brett doesn’t follow the other guys.
The Lokis continue to pace. One of them turns to Steve and says, “This THING should not be here, Steven. Trolls are magical but barely self-aware! It could never create a world gate on its own.” Walking towards Steve, Loki shouts. “What is it doing here?”
“I wi
sh I knew,” says Steve calmly.
The apparition of Loki looks away. “Cera. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Cera.” And then he begins saying something in a language that sounds familiar but Steve can’t place. He looks over to Brett. His agent nods and lifts the phone. Thankfully, this is going on record.
A Loki closer to the troll aims a foot at what remains of its head. There is a wet thud and the sound of bone cracking. “I. Hate. These. Fucking. Things!” Loki says, kicking it over and over.
With a snarl he begins walking towards Steve. “I know about agent Merryl’s adventures in Wyoming, Steven.” He hisses. “You’re going to have a lot more visitors everywhere your precious little prisoner beneath the board of trade has been.”
Steve tilts his head, not dropping Loki’s sword. Prisoner? Wait. What? Feeling himself shiver, Steve takes a breath. “Go on.”
Loki rolls his eyes. “And since you still keep her here, Chicago is going to become the grand central station of the worlds.” He smiles. “Luckily you have me. The good guy.”
“Uh-huh,” says Steve as Loki closes the distance between them. With one quick motion Steve could pierce Loki’s heart with his own sword.
Loki looks at the gleaming blade. “Nice work, by the way. What was that...Kumdo?”
Steve blinks. And then suddenly there is an incredibly strong pressure on his wrist and the blade goes hot in his hands. He drops it and it falls to the ground with a clang. Steve feels a gust of wind and then the sword is gone. He looks up and the Loki he was speaking to is still standing there, smirking, of course. “I’ve been known to lend out Laevithin upon occasion,” Loki says. “But I always take her back.”
Scowling, Steve walks through him. “Care to tell me a little more about trolls so next time I run into one we’re better prepared?”
“Maybe later,” says Loki, and even though Steve can’t see him, he can still hear the smirk. All the Lokis suddenly disappear.
“Got it all,” says Brett.
“Good man,” says Steve.
He hears the voice of a woman in the distance. Looking up, Steve sees his agents keeping a small group of neighborhood residents at bay.
“What was that?” the woman says.
Behind him he hears the slam of car doors and someone shouts, “Chicago Police!”
Steve sighs. Plastering on his happiest smile he says, “Just a little horror movie shoot, people!” Pretty close to the excuse of an amateur fantasy film shoot that the FBI had used to explain the eight-legged horse on LaSalle a few weeks back.
“Where are the cameras?” someone shouts.
“What stinks?” says another.
Brett holds up his phone. “It’s an indie film — we’re going for the hyper realism look.”
One of the officers shouts, “We never got no permit for no film shoot.”
Steve sighs again. It’s going to be a long night.
Chapter 5
It’s 8:30 a.m., the morning after the troll landed in Chicago. A little later than Steve normally starts a day at the office. But then, he never went home last night. Steve, Brett, Bryant, and Laura Stodgill are in ADUO’s conference room, seated at a long table. There are two large monitors on the wall. Merryl is in one monitor, the shadow of a gray beard on his square jaw, dark circles under his eyes. Behind him are trees. In the other monitor is Director Jameson. Although he’s known informally as Director Jameson within ADUO, his full title is Executive Assistant Director of ADUO, and he’s just one step below the FBI’s Associate Director. Jameson’s narrow face is magically smooth, his blue eyes bright and rested. He’s even wearing a suit. Behind him is the emblem of the bald eagle.
Glaring at Jameson, Steve stands from his seat. “We need to let Chicago’s other anti-terrorist agencies and police know what is going on, Sir.” And they need to prepare the Chicago Board of Trade to pack up and move out before the sphere gets too much larger. But he and Merryl have been saying that for weeks now.
Straightening, Jameson tilts his head. “That is not a decision for you to make.”
“I agree with Agent Rogers,” says Merryl. “If Loki says that there will be other portals opening, Chicago needs to be prepared.”
Steve relaxes minutely but keeps his eyes glued on Jameson.
“Loki is an unreliable witness,” says Jameson.
Steve fights the urge to curse. Instead he smiles. “He has reasons to want to work with us on this —”
“—to distract us from paying attention to him! Where are you on finding out where he lives, on getting him into custody?” says Jameson.
Steve takes a breath. Nowhere. Keeping his face neutral he says, “Where are you in getting me access to the ballistics report on the Subaru that went to Alfheim?”
Jameson sits back in his chair. His lips tremble but he meets Steve gaze. “There was no ballistics to report,” he says. “The girl is also an unreliable witness.”
Keeping his eyes locked on Steve, Jameson smiles just a touch. He’s lying but thinks he’s getting away with it. Steve doesn’t roll his eyes, but it’s hard, really hard, even for him.
It’s then that Steve notices Jameson’s hand tapping nervously at the desk. He is scared. Steve feels himself wilt inside a little. Jameson’s background is law with an undergrad in public policy from an expensive but unimpressive private school on the east coast. He has no military or law enforcement background. He has a father who is a senator, and he’s had the job as ADUO’s director for a long time — since ADUO was essentially a joke.
Now he may hold the fate of the city of Chicago, hell the fate of the country, in his hands.
Jameson’s mouth tightens. “I will let you know when other agencies are allowed to become involved. That will be all.”
The screen goes black. Steve sits back in his chair and frowns. By limiting the city’s response options, Jameson is forcing him to rely on Loki. Like Hell, Steve will try to have him arrested.
His phone beeps with a text. Glancing down at it and seeing Amy’s name on the ID, he opens it. R u sure Loki is okay? The fire owl disappeared after I came home!
He runs a hand over his face and then looks down at his phone just in time to see another text pop-in.
He’s here! Loki...not the owl.
Steve sighs and starts typing furiously with his thumbs. Ask him to breakfast.
A few seconds later another note pops in.
But I’ll be late ???
Steve looks at the guys around him. “You’re dismissed,” he says curtly.
As they file out, Steve types back. Is ok. Have questions for you to ask him. Discreetly.
He taps all the questions out, and then shaking his head, hits send.
He is going to have to rely on Amy Lewis, too.
x x x x
It’s a dreary gray afternoon, about a week after the troll in the park and breakfast with Loki.
Amy looks out the window of Chicago’s Redline ‘L’ train. There must be an event of some kind because even though it’s Sunday, the train is packed.
Amy’s on her way home after visiting Beatrice. She should visit Beatrice more often, but it’s an hour and a half away by public transit, and Beatrice shows no sign of recognizing her — or anyone. It’s...discouraging.
Amy looks down at her hands. Her mother has put Beatrice on the waiting list for a cheaper nursing home outside of Chicago. When Beatrice gets in, it will be even more difficult to visit. That is both saddening and a horrible relief.
Amy closes her eyes and leans her head against the cold glass of the window. Her stomach growls, she hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast. “Next stop Belmont,” the train conductor says. Amy lifts her head, suddenly struck by inspiration. As the train shudders to a halt, she jumps from her seat and barely makes it through the crowd in time. A few minutes later she’s walking along Clark Street.
“My, aren’t you far afield?”
Amy stops, feeling a spark at the base of her spine she tells herself is magic. She turns and smiles.<
br />
Loki isn’t in any sort of disguise, besides the blue jeans and leather jacket she’s pretty sure aren’t real. When they went out for breakfast he’d made himself look like a younger incarnation of Bob Marley.
Her brow furrows and she looks around for the agents she knows are following her.
He smirks. “You lost your tail on the train.”
She turns back to him. “Are you hungry?”
Loki tilts his head. “Does a cockatrice shit on stones?”
Amy blinks.
He looks heavenward. “Maybe the Midgardian expression is ‘Does a dragon shit in a cave...’? No, no, that can’t be right.”
She smirks. Grabbing his arm and telling herself she absolutely does not go warm at the touch, she pulls him along. “Come on, I know a place that serves all you can eat Indian.”
x x x x
“Please, Sir,” the manager of the Indian restaurant says to Loki. “Please — we have no more.”
Loki looks hard at the man. “You’re lying.”
“Loki —” says Amy, looking sideways at the empty buffet. This perhaps wasn’t the best idea she’s ever had.
Bowing, the little man says, “The food I have left in the kitchen is for dinner service — please. I beg you. No more! ”
Loki stares at him. “Oh, very well. But my companion and I desire tea.”
“Yes, sir! Yes, sir! Coming right up,” says the manager, stepping quickly away.
“Now, where were we?” says Loki, tearing off a piece of naan bread still at the table. “Oh, yes, nanotechnology with bacteriophage delivery systems.” He smiles. “If your kind doesn’t destroy yourselves, you’re going to make the nine realms so much more exciting.”
Amy wants to answer with something she read in Science, but she suddenly notices how late it’s getting. Fumbling in her pocket she pulls out a folded sheet of paper. “I should probably ask you Steve’s questions.”
Something wicked flashes through his eyes. “I wouldn’t let you forget.”
“Right, well...” Amy clears her throat. “First off, they still want to know if Cera is conscious or not.”
“And my answer is still, I’m not telling.”