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"Like hollowing out animal horns?" I ask.
"He's turned into a recluse," Loki says.
“And you’ve lost your sense of humor,” Heimdall says.
“Whatever,” Loki groans.
“I am not a recluse. I value self-mastery," Heimdall says. "In these times, it is wise to be prepared for the future."
He's not as intruding as Loki, and I get the sense he is dependable.
"You are generous and sensible," Loki says. "But if you don't learn how to fight, none of those strengths will matter."
"We'll see about that," he says.
"We sure will," Loki says.
Loki laughs heartily at his own boast, but Heimdall's smile has faded entirely. His attention is focused on me, and his eyes pierce right through my face. I start to feel that dizzying sensation I get before I see a vision.
Heimdall can sense it. He stands up and walks toward me. My eyes widen as he winds his arm back.
Is he going to hit me? Oh, fuck, he's about to hit me...
He slams his palm against my heart, knocking me back against the wall.
"Awake," he chants.
Then he lowers his voice. "You are in control. Do not ever think that you aren't."
"What -- What just happened?" I stutter and cough.
Both Loki and Heimdall share a knowing glance. Heimdall leans forward and clears his throat. "Now that we're here, you need to open your eyes and get a hold on your power," he says. "That goes for both of you. You have been in a fog for so long. It's time to realize your true potential."
Loki's turn to talk. “Let’s talk about Lucky Luci's million-dollar offer. Truth is, I could use the money. But we're not bad men. We don't take bad deals, no matter how shiny the offer looks. We're here to save you."
Hesitatingly, Raven looks at me. Her eyes dart from left and right like she's calculating an incredibly tough equation. "Save us from what?" she asks.
"Yourself," Loki says.
Heimdall takes the reins once more. "We should be one hundred percent clear with you. That man didn't just make us an offer for your captivity. In a way, I believe he knew we wouldn't turn you in," he says.
My blood pressure spikes. "Then what the hell does he want?" I ask.
Reaching into his pocket, Loki pulls out what appears to be a picture of a strange and ancient blade. In the center of the blade is a blue orb. It looks all-powerful.
Loki balances the photograph between two fingers and says, "He asked us to make him a sword. I'm used to the occasional oddball request, but the picture he gave me is of something highly unusual."
"What is it?" Raven asks.
"Laeveteinn," Heimdall says. "In my culture, it is an ancient and holy blade. That being said, it cannot be made on Earth."
"This is insane," Raven says.
"Nonetheless, we agreed to craft it," Heimdall says.
I'm practically frothing at the mouth, I'm so mad. I can't believe they would agree to his request. Then again, it's not like I turned the gun away. I took it, knowing that it must have come from evil.
Loki holds up his hand before I can interrupt.
