In general, viewing other people's mories via magic felt very different from perceiving Loki's mories in my own head. Maybe that's why he couldn't do anything about my arrival.
However, how that arrival happened remains a mystery to . I didn't rember the circumstances of my "death" in my past life as a human, nor did I rember what the very last chronological mory was.
It was roughly the sa with Loki, though to a lesser extent, I rembered the day before the insertion, but as for the God of Mischief entering his chambers and what he did there… blank.
On one hand, that sucked. On the other… ignorance is bliss. For so reason, I felt that in my situation, that was a very accurate sentint.
In any case, after asking for help from a few "volunteers," I managed to piece together a rough picture of the world around .
First, Tony Stark had indeed already been captured by terrorists, built his armor, and heroically returned, managing to announce to the whole world that he is Iron Man.
And, to be honest, on this side of the Canadian border, people generally didn't give a damn about those events.
For the local workers, the question of who would win the next football ga on TV was far more pressing.
Stories about a rich psycho in a padded iron jacket were treated just like that, stories about a rich psycho. No one is surprised by their quirks anymore.
Second, the Hulk had already appeared, but also on the level of: "So green man, maybe from Mars, maybe Venus, maybe a governnt lab, caused a riot sowhere, just like the brothers in Brooklyn." It was almost forgotten.
Nobody knew where he was or how he was doing, but he definitely hadn't been rampaging lately.
And finally, the mutant problem.
It was a trend right now, and all the dia outlets were hyping it up, but nobody had really seen any mutants.
That is, they supposedly exist, "so the TV says", but they also kind of don't, because… well… a re mortal couldn't just walk out and et one on the street.
Nobody knew about the X-n, Spider-Man, or the Fantastic Four yet.
I particularly regretted the last one, I always liked Julian McMahon's portrayal of Victor von Doom, but they hadn't heard of him here either.
In short, I spent a productive night, incidentally becoming five hundred bucks richer. People shouldn't invite the God of Mischief to play cards, even if he looks like a harmless dandy.
The hotel from yesterday greeted with sleepy silence and the lethargic shuffling of staff sweeping up near the arena.
A mustachioed trucker was asleep on a large sofa near a side table; a couple of people were eating breakfast at another. The TV behind the bar was quietly playing pop music.
The bartender in a red plaid shirt was wiping a glass. And in front of him sat a lost, huddled figure in a hooded coat, with a large bag resting at her feet.
Crumpling the empty bag and flicking it halfway across the room into a bin where the cleaners dumped trash, I marched openly toward Rogue, hiding from no one.
"Got coffee?" I mid a yawn for the bartender.
The girl, next to whom I sat, flinched and side-eyed . The man clearly recognized too; he nodded silently and flipped the switch on the electric kettle.
"And a couple of cheese sandwiches," I added to the order, placing a ten-dollar bill on the counter.
"Heated?" the bartender asked, nodding at the microwave.
"No need."
Asking nothing more, the man walked over to the kitchen window and relayed the order.
At that mont, Logan approached from the opposite side of the bar, dressed like a typical local regular.
He noticed us only after sitting on the furthest stool, and only because Rogue, agitated by my appearance, was looking at him like he was so kind of monster.
She was looking at the sa way, but I expected that. Wolverine, however, was drawn by that look from a random neighbor.
After that, his eyes shifted to , reflecting mild bewildernt. It seed my disguise could fool his animal senses too.
Actually, that wasn't surprising, "scent" is just as obvious a parater as color or weight, and any invisible person should know how to hide those first.
Hiding magic and a spiritual imprint is much harder.
In response to the attention, I simply nodded in greeting, my entire deanor showing that I didn't care about anything other than my order.
Logan was satisfied with this and, pulling out a cigar, tried to pretend my presence didn't concern him. Actually, he managed that quickly, since Rogue kept staring, and her expression naturally drew attention to herself.
"Gim a beer," Wolverine asked, turning to the bartender who was just counting out my change, and slapped his own bill on the table.
He got his request faster than I did, but not by much, the kettle had just boiled, and they brewed so local instant slop, not sparing the sugar bowl.
The slop turned out to be tolerable, and when the sandwiches arrived from the kitchen, life beca quite good.
And by the way… Rogue obviously had no money.
At least, she was sitting with a glass of water and tracking the first sandwich I bit into with such a hungry look that I involuntarily paused mid-chew.
Realizing her interest had been noticed, the girl imdiately beca embarrassed and looked down.
Even though questions bubbled up inside like, "How did she end up in Canada with no money?" and "How did she plan to survive?", that didn't stop from silently sliding the plate with the remaining culinary "masterpiece" toward her.
"Huh?.." the mutant girl was confused. "What…"
"Believe , I don't mind when girls look at with longing," I said to this Miss Extre Tourism, playing with my face in true Loki style, "but the gastronomic interest in your eyes is unnecessary. Go ahead, eat it. I'll order more."
I nodded to the bartender in a "repeat" gesture, luckily the change he'd given was still on the table so I didn't have to reach far.
"Thank you," clearly feeling out of place, the girl nevertheless readily grabbed the sandwich and hurried to take a bite.
User Comments
0 comments from readers