Chapter 37
In a rare bout of non-stupidity, the jotunns and fire demons chose to stop fighting, and combine forces to fight the current biggest threat. So now Jormungandr and I are up against thousands of these people. We spent the rest of the day having fun with the rest of the cannon fodder. Nothing says family bonding like committing pseudo-genocide.
After we were done with our recreational activity, we teleported to Asgard to figure out how it was doing. Apparently, Thor decided to invade Jotunheim while I was busy distracting their better soldiers. Thor's objective is only to cull their numbers a bit, and show the rest of the nine realms that Asgard isn't weak.
Currently, I am enjoying spending time with my mother at one of my personal spas on Earth. It took a while to get her to accept, since she felt she didn't have the time to relax because of recent events. Being the good son that I was, I obviously couldn't accept that outcome. I got her husband killed, it is the least that I can do.
We were in a massage session, in a single room with two massage beds. Hearing her let out a satisfying moan as one of the knots in her body are taken care of, I gain a smug smile.
"See, mother. I told you, you wouldn't regret this outing. How do they compare to Asgardian masseuses?" I say, not caring that the staff can hear since, I used the equivalent of a notice-me-not spell on what we are saying.
"Surprisingly well. I had no idea that midgardians were so advanced." Frigga says.
"Well, if you have such a short lifespan, you usually try to make the most of it. Asgardians tend not to work as hard, seeing as they can gradually learn something over the decades."
"Hmm. Unlike you, who was always passionate about learning everything in the shortest timeframe possible. The funny thing is you always complained about how lazy you were when you were more hardworking compared to most people on Asgard."
"I often compared my diligence to Heimdall's, and you can see how my scale of it got skewed. How can you compare to someone who does his job every hour of the day for thousands of years."
"True. So how has life been the last couple of years?" Frigga asks me as she lets out another moan, another knot getting worked out of her.
"Not much. Started working on a business, and am currently uplifting their entertainment sector to higher levels. I made myself an orphan, I guess that is interesting."
"You personally killed Laufey?!" She asked, shocked.
"Of course. He is lucky I let him live this long. I can accept him throwing me away, but he killed my biological mother. Not that I care about her. But she was mine, and I won't have people thinking that they can touch what is mine and get away with it."
We stop talking for a few minutes before Frigga replies."Your possessiveness makes you weirdly protective, my son. Quite frankly, it's adorable."
"I am not adorable, I am perfection made flesh. At least that was what Laufey's new wife probably thought as I gave her my child."
"What!" She asks bemused.
"I am perfection made flesh?" I play the naive game.
"The last part." Frigga said sternly.
"Oh, I might expect another child. She was so nice as to let me get my revenge on Laufey by giving him what the midgardians call a green hat. So I thought I would leave her a gift. Since there is no greater gift than being able to carry a Lokison or Lokidottir, I elected to give her one."
She sighs. "What am I going to do with you? Poor Aelsa, she has to deal with you on a weekly basis."
"Actually it's every other day that I visit her. Plus she was my first major lover. I blame my corruption solely on her, so she has to deal with the consequences."
"I am sure that is not true. You were always a deviant child. You would always use illusions to impersonate random people. By the ripe age of 12 you were already committing identity theft and fraud."
~~~
We spent the rest of the evening keeping each other company before departing. I made my way back to my building where my henchwoman awaited.
"If it isn't my favourite living russian." I greeted Yelena.
"Living?" She replies.
"Yeah. I met a fine Russian queen back in the day. Someone actually turned our adventure into a song. She was an empress or czarina, but the song described her as a queen."
"Sure they did. Let me guess it was called Rasputin." She says sarcastically.
"Yes. You are so smart. I knew there was a reason I kidnapped you."
"You're joking right. You're Rasputin."
"Not joking, actually. It was quite fun. All I had to do was heal the empress's son and she was smitten with me. That was just the latest line of emperors I cuckolded. Try not to be too overwhelmed by my majesty."
"I am just going to go drink a glass of whiskey, in case you are going to reveal something that could give me a heart attack, like if you were Gandhi."
"Nelson Mandela, actually. You, humans, are stupid with your thoughts of superiority, because of your skin colours. It's not like you get special abilities like otherworlders." I say.
The reason I actually posed as Nelson Mandela, is because I butterflied him out of existence, and out of nostalgia I decided to improve my previous home country. My memory doesn't allow my feelings of things to be forgotten or dissipate, so I decided to fix the segregation.
Apartheid would have been stopped in due time, maybe years or a decade after the original date without my involvement, but I can be heroic sometimes, and I was in the mood.
"How? He is still alive." She asks
"Just a clone. Check your phone."
She does, her eyes widen as she gets a dm from the man himself. She looks back up at me and then at the phone. I just shoot her my signature smug smile.
"I am thinking about killing him off in a few years. It was fun playing a president while it lasted."
"My boss is a god." She says in a low voice. "To think I didn't believe it until now."
I just enjoy seeing the disbelieving super spy. I don't have to worry about giving the little details about myself, since she is completely loyal due to the new brain I gave her. Plus it's not like those details are something I view as important.
A/N More chapters on patreo.n/DickMcJones