it's been a long, long time

chapter 5: get help

Loki Laufeyson Odinson is many things.

Prince of Asgard. The Rightful King of Jotunheim. God of Mischief. On his better days, Odin's son. A thief, a swindler. A god.

But he is not, and has never been, predictable.

It may appear that he does not plan his moves before he makes them, but in reality, every action he takes is carefully thought out and the result of a convoluted scheme he has sketched out in his mind. He has become adept at reading the universe, at placing himself in situations where he gets everything he wants. Lesser mortals may call it fate. He calls it intelligence.

It must be intelligence, because there is no other explanation for him being back on earth, walking through the streets of New York on a balmy October afternoon. He refuses to believe that fate would have him walk through the streets of this too-loud city filled with skyscrapers and people running late to their next meetings. Something in the back of his mind, an instinct, perhaps, had led him here.

He's strolling along some Avenue (Fifth? Maybe Sixth? It's really kind of pathetic that humans have to number their streets to make it easier to find things), mentally redesigning the buildings to look regal and more spacious when he barrels right into a woman who was presumably walking down the sidewalk toward him.

"My apologies, I must not have been looking—" He freezes.

He's staring into a pair of very, very familiar green eyes.

He opens his mouth to say something, but before anything comes out he sees her eyes flash with panic and then a pair of rough hands is forcing him back against the wall.

"You better watch yourself, dude! Watch where you're going!" An unfamiliar man's face is inches from Loki's, and Loki is seconds away from summoning his dagger when he sees Natasha Romanoff vehemently shaking her head over the man's shoulder.

Loki blinks and holds both hands up. "Sorry."

The man mutters something under his breath and releases Loki after giving him one last shove. Loki stays where he is as the duo continues walking down the sidewalk and rounds the corner, thinking that if he allows himself to move he will surely end the man's life and then he'd have to face Romanoff, which is not something he particularly wants to do at the moment.

After about a minute, he decides it's safe for him to move again and pushes himself off of the wall. He has just resumed his leisurely stroll when he sees a lithe figure sprinting toward him. He stops and waits for Natasha to stop in front of him, hair whipping in the wind.

"There's no time to explain," she says hurriedly. "If you see me again, call me Anna. Where can I find you later?"

Loki feels himself recoil, but his brain is curious and his instincts are making his heart pound, so he tells her. She gives him a brisk nod and then disappears down the street. This, Loki thinks, is what that little voice in the back of his head was telling him. This is why he's in New York.

Romanoff shows up at his door late that night.

"Anna! What a surprise!" Loki says sardonically, opening the door to let her in. She rolls her eyes and gestures at him to shut the door, and when he does, she drops into one of his antique armchairs, suddenly looking much more tired than she had a mere second before.

He drags a second chair across from her and sits down, folding his hands and looking at her expectantly. When she doesn't speak, he sighs and says, "Do I really have to call you Anna?"

"Yes." She answers without looking up. "From now on, I'm Anna Vanko. To you and all your friends."

Vanko. The name echoes deep inside Loki's memory, but he remembers. Some of the worst people on Midgard, the Other had said. Get them to help you if you can.