Loki and the Phantom

Chapter One

The autumn air blew around a tall, raven-haired man as he stood facing the Paris Opera House. He sighed and moved toward the main entrance, going over his plan in his head. How he was going to carry it out, however, he had no idea. How could he convince the owners of his guise as an aspiring makeup artist without using his Magyk? He had read about makeup artistry, of course, but he had never tried it. With his knowledge of the trade, as supplied by the expansive Asgardian libraries, he decided that he could, in fact, get by on just the knowledge learned using the time when he was supposed to be training or reviewing trivial things the Allfather wanted him to learn. Once upon a time, he would have enjoyed the attention from his 'father', but as he grew, he understood that this was futile training. Thor would become King. He would stand to the side, slowly dying, after all, that was a side effect of life, even a half-immortal one. He would be overlooked until Thor was killed or died. His glory would not last very long, as he was only 50 years younger than the blonde god. How could he stand to be on Asgard? He couldn't, which was why he stood in the Paris streets at a time long forgotten to the Asgardians.

Inside the theater, intricate gold patterns laced the floor, while Janus masks and baby angels littered the walls. He walked up the expansive marble staircase to the managers' office.

"Monsieur Laufeyson!  It's a pleasure to finally meet you.  My name is Gilles Andre, and this is my colleague, Richard Firman.  Since you were the only applicant, we decided to give you the position."

"Do you need us to show you around the theater?" Firman asked, moving to the door.

"Thank you for your most gracious offer, but I must decline."  Monsieur Laufeyson spoke in perfect French, even if it was in a velvety British accent.  He shook Andre and Firman's hands before exiting the building.  He saw a flash of fiery red sprint down the alleyway behind him. 

_-_-_-_-_

 

The ability of a human at a full sprint is 12.5 miles per hour.  The average speed of a demigod sprinting is around 14 miles per hour.  Red was slightly above average, at 13.5 miles per hour, yet he was still caught by the angered demigod. 

"Why are you following me?" Loki growled, roughly shoving Red against the brick wall of the building adjacent from the Opera House.  Red wore a defiant smirk, refusing to speak.  Loki snarled, and slammed Red into the wall once again.  Red opened his mouth, showing Loki his non-existent tongue.  Loki held his sneer, but released the mute.  Red reached in his pocket and produced a pad of paper and a charcoal, where he proceeded to write:

You're new.  I've never seen you before.  I was curious.

Loki looked at the note, scoffing.  Even though he hid it, he was surprised to see that the boy was literate.  "How did you know I was new?"  Red took his pad back.

I know everyone in the theater.  You haven't been here before.  And, yes, I know, big shock, I'm literate.  I don't really have a lot of options here do I?

 

Loki looked at the boy with astonishment.  No-one had ever read him like that. 

Aren't you going to ask my name?

Red wrote with a teasing look on his face.  Loki raised his eyebrows.

"Fine then, what's your name?"

Red.  The one and only.

 

Loki grumbled, claiming the name was stupid and unoriginal.  Red made a weird sound that could have been interpreted as the word "hey".

I take offence to that.