Loki's Revision

The Struggle

All of the self defense classes Papa had made me take after the incident, went down the drain. My feet were completely frozen to the ground and my hands had begun to shake slightly. I tried desperately to swim through my brain to try and remember what the hell to do when someone has a knife to your throat, but I was left with nothing. The dogs continuously barked at the attacker which only made me more scared.

"Who... who are you?" I managed to muster barely a whisper. I watched as my breath condensation flew out into the air weightlessly.

       The knife pressed to my throat tightened, making it harder for me to breathe. I gulped and squeezed my eyes shut. Why did I always have to be so curious? How much I wished we were still watching Wheel of Fortune was not enough to bring me back now.

       "How many people live here?" The man's voice demanded urgently, as if his life depended on it. It was at this moment that I felt a warm liquid soak my pajama top. Was this man... bleeding?

       I had apparently took too long to answer his question because the knife's dug slightly deeper into my neck, the tip just barely piercing my skin. I winced as a single drop of blood fell down my neck. The hounds growled defensively and a sudden plan formed. "Three. Just me and my grandparents, I swear," I whispered back, desperately wanting him to release me.

     His grip that he had around my waist and on my throat relaxed slightly, allowing me to breath much easier. The knife was now barely touching my skin. It took all the strength and courage I could muster to do what I was about to do.

     "A knife to the throat is almost a guaranteed death. Do what they ask of you, never try to break loose."

      Of course the hundreds of dollars spent to teach me about self defense would mean nothing. I was about to disobey one of the main rules.

      As fast as I could, I went boneless and fell to the ground. A sharp pain stabbed through my jaw. I hit the ground hard, but I remained focused, turned and used both of my legs to kick his right shin. He let out a shout that my grandparents are sure to hear, dropped his shiny knife, and fell backwards. I quickly grabbed the knife, rose up to my feet as fast as I could and lifted the latch on the dogs fence.

      A quick, not so well thought out maneuver, yet it seemed to have worked. The two dogs burst from their confinement and took their place standing in between me, and the man on the ground. They bore their teeth, snarling threateningly.

     This was the first chance I had gotten to get a good look at the man. He had dark, midnight black hair that looked extremely messy. Pale skin, with scattered cuts and bruises on his face. His outfit was extremely strange and futuristic, nothing like anyone would wear in 2018. On his side was a deep cut in his clothes, and even in the dark I could tell was wet with blood. The most captivating thing about this man was his extremely menacing eyes. Although a light teal, I could feel that he had deep, hidden pain.

      As I awkwardly held the knife, the tip protruding towards him, I had no idea what to say. Who are you? Where did you come from? What question would I even start with? Yet, before I could even open my mouth, the man's lips formed into a smooth smirk. My eyebrows furrowed in surprise. Smirking isn't necessarily what a normal person would do when they just got overpowered by a smaller female.

     That's when the loudest, most threatening bark I had ever heard in my entire life sounded in front of me, about 100 feet away from where they man lay on the ground. My eyes darted up to find the source. My heart skipped a beat. A large, two headed dog stood there, both set of lips drawn back in a snarl, foaming at the mouths.

      What in the hell, was that? Where had it come from?

      Both dogs that had been so bravely guarding me from this man immediately took after this dog, leaving me in the dust. Not gonna lie, it hurt my feelings. My eyes landed back on the man who had now managed to pull himself up from the ground and was standing before me, leaning most of his weight on his opposite leg. He had a hand placed on his large gash in his side.

      "You're going to have to try quite a bit harder than that to take me down, love," the man said smoothly, his words rolling off of his tongue like butter on toast. There was a slight edge to his words however, a slight twinge of pain.

      My grip on his knife tightened as he spoke, still terrified of who he was. Yet, that beast of a dog had appeared out of nowhere, I couldn't just ignore that. "I... who are you??" I demanded once again, holding the knife up with both hands as if I was trying to threaten him. Off in the distance, the dogs were circling the strange two headed dog, growling.

      "Mm, that hurts," the man said, "You'll know my brother but not me?" He sighed dramatically, his eyes wandering off of me for a moment before snapping back to my terrified stare. "I suppose 'God of Thunder' is a lot more appealing to you Midguardians."

       I squinted my eyes in confusion. God of Thunder? Brother? None of it was making sense. I almost convinced myself right then that he had escaped from the mental asylum 10 miles out. Suddenly it all clicked in my head. "Your brother is Thor Odinson?" I asked, my voice slightly shaking.

The man raised his eyebrows and put his hands up as if to say 'tada!' very sarcastically, yet did not vocalize that I was right. My heart sank and I felt my body go cold. My ears started to ring as my mind took my back to New York. The grip that I had on his knife loosened and I let my hands fall to my sides. It all made sense. The two headed dog illusion... If this man's brother was Thor, than that meant that...

The sound of a gun cocking snapped me out of my unpleasant thoughts immediately and back into reality. My head snapped up and my eyes met Papa's, holding his old shotgun, pointed straight at the man. Burning panic rose up in my throat, forcing me to swallow it down. "Step away from my granddaughter," my grandfather shouted threateningly at the man.

The God raised his hands nonchalantly and took a step to the side. How did he seem so calm and collected with a gun pointed straight at his face? Papa must have noticed that he was injured because his voice softened slightly, "Who are you?"

Just as the God had opened his mouth and was beginning to say something, my body acted faster than my brain and I stepped in front of the God, putting myself between the gun and him. I put my hands behind me to hide his knife that I was holding and quickly slipped it into my back pocket. "Adam," I answered for him. "His name is Adam. He walked here from town because he's hurt and he needs help," I lied, my voice quivering.

I knew that if Papa knew that this man was the God that destroyed New York and killed my parents, he would kill him on the spot. No questions asked. I glanced back at the God and raised my eyebrows to tell him to go along with it. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head very slightly as if he were examining me. His eyes almost putting me in a trance.

I turned back to my grandfather and smiled slightly to sell it. I never was the best at lying, but my grandfather was always extremely trusting in his only grandchild left. His eyes darted from me to the stranger behind me before he slowly lowered his gun. "Then by all means son, come inside," he said politely.

As my grandfather turned around and started walking back up to the house, I let out a sigh of relief as quietly as I could. My eyes raised up to where the demon dog was, and to my surprise he had vanished, along with our two hounds. They often ran off so I paid no mind to it and turned around to face the God. He was staring at me quite intently.

"You are a terrible liar," he said, as a menacing smirk slid across his chapped lips. He really was in terrible condition. It was as if he had just gotten out of a war. He limped past me, his scent just barely brushing my nose. It was intoxicating.

Where did this man come from?