The Cost of a Mortal's Captivity | Loki

A Good Cup of Jo

Warning: Violence? You know, superhero movie stuff.

I do not doubt Jared Johnson's abilities to land a plane. To my knowledge, he did an absolute blue-ribbon job of executing a perfect landing, without any major hiccups or bumps. However, landing us in a vast, empty field in the middle of German nowhere is making me question his navigation skills.

"So..." I begin. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure this is not what a German airport looks like."

"You're not wrong," Johnson confirms. "In fact, it's not even what German soil looks like."

I furrow my eyebrows. "I'm sorry, what was that last bit?"

"We're in France right now," he clarifies. "We have a little bit of a road trip ahead of us still."

Before I have a chance to react to the horrific thought of being crammed shoulder-to-shoulder in a vehicle with Loki singing "Kumbaya," the maniac in question enters the cockpit. "Excellent work, Johnson, but now our final transportation awaits."

"Yes, sir," Johnson replies, standing.

"The way you say 'final transportation' makes it sound like once we get to wherever we're going, we're there for the rest of our lives," I sigh, quite done with his theatrics.

"Who is to say that you won't be?" Loki counters. "Nobody knows the day that they'll die." On that cryptic note, Loki spins on his heel and exits the cockpit.

I turn to Johnson. "He needs a hobby, and impaling people on his Skyrim staff doesn't count."

Johnson lets out a brief laugh. "We should probably follow him, though. He's not exactly the most patient person in the world."

"I don't know how you put up with him," I sigh, standing. "But, however you do it, you'll have to teach me. I'm coming really close to murdering him with his own staff."

Johnson holds his finger up. "Ah, now, understand. I double as Loki's bodyguard. You talk like that enough, and I'll be required to make it look like an accident."

"An accident, huh?" I repeat. "That's one way to die, but not my way." I begin to walk out of the cockpit, my ultimate destination being the limousine that awaits us. Johnson at my heels. "I'll just have to watch my mouth. It sounds to me though, that you do a lot for Loki. You're like his everything."

"Don't put it like that," Johnson laughs. "We're not in a cheap romance novel."

"That much is true," I return. "Recently I feel like I'm trapped in the middle of some whacked superhero fan-fiction."

"You read those?"

When in dangerous waters, lie. "Never."

Loki is already inside the limousine by the time we reach it. "Oddly enough, Johnson," he begins. "A bodyguard is not much use if he fails to guard."

I roll my eyes. "Oh, shut up, Mr. Mischief," I sigh. "We can say that he was guarding me because recently I have been a subject of unexplainable, maniac interest for leather-clad lunatics who think they're straight out of a Tolkien work."

Instead of Johnson's laughter or Loki's apology, the next thing I hear comes from behind me. "I'm sorry, sir," Johnson apologizes. "I'll be more vigilant in the future."

I suppose that Johnson is a professional and therefore must bow to Loki's every whim. Nevertheless, I just know that I'm missing an element. It's the key to why Johnson is such a sweetheart on one hand and a stiff, emotionless agent on the other. I need to think. There seems to be a wall around my mind, barring out connections and deductive reasoning.